Blurring Boundaries
by jakondas
Summary: Ichigo's determination to protect Orihime leads him into a situation that will change his life and views forever. Warnings for blood, language, violence, explicit yaoi m/m , dub-con, angst, vampires and wereanimals. Grimm/Ichi/Ulqui 3some fic [NOT abandoned as of 12th June, 2015, for those of you worried about it]
1. Chapter 1

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**Disclaimer:** The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me. I just decided to make them do all sorts of fun and kinky things when I managed to steal them...

**Warnings:** Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.

**Summary:** Ichigo is a human Hunter; someone who hunts down and kills the Nightbeasts who prey on mankind. Few humans have the power and speed to survive against these supernatural creatures, but Ichigo soon comes to question everything he's been taught about them when he meets Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. Strangely these two – who should be at each other's throats – share a long-tern contract of a surprising nature, and they're both willing to extend the same protection to him, if he's willing to join them. Now Ichigo must choose between the Reapers; god-like beings who claim to be guardians of the human race, and the beasts who refuse to give up their homes, or lives for the sake of the weakest race in the world.

**A/N:** My first Bleach fic! I know there will be some OOCness, and I expect there to be numerous mistakes, so feel free to point them out for me. This will be multi-chaptered, but I don't know yet how long (or frequent) it's going to be. I'm working from a single idea that I felt compelled to extrapolate on, and I can only hope the plotbunnies keep up with me.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**Blurring Boundaries  
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Kurosaki Ichigo pressed his back to the nearest tree, closed his eyes, and listened intently to the forest around him. A task that he'd have found a million times easier if not for the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. Breathing as calmly as possible under the circumstances, he strained his hearing to the limit, but still couldn't figure out where that damned aura was coming from.

Everyone else had disappeared back to wherever-the-hell they came from – and where Ichigo was not welcome – for some sort of strategy meeting. 'Everyone' being the newest additions to his social circle. They'd told him little about themselves, other than to deny accusations of being gods, or angels, though he could easily believe either notion after having seen the kinds of magic they wielded as though it was nothing. Still, if not for his own surprisingly powerful 'gift' he'd have been ignored, or worse; killed. No mortal was supposed to know the things he now knew, and it meant he had to be careful about which humans he trusted, too. Anyone could potentially be a Nightbeast. A walking terror.

So while they were all off stroking their egos over how smart they were, and how all-powerful their race supposedly was, Ichigo could be found stuck in the middle of the god-forsaken forest, chasing after the creatures who'd attacked yet another of the townsfolk he'd known his entire life. All he had to defend himself with was a large sword named Zangetsu that he'd only recently discovered how to summon, and the ability to sense auras, which might have been more helpful if he understood how to tell _where_ the crazy auras were coming from _before_ he was jumped by their owners.

A howl pierced the night, the eerie sound of it sending a shiver down his spine. There hadn't been an actual wolf in these woods for more generations than he cared to think about, and though that knowledge was relatively new to him, it still left him cold. It was too close, too excited, for him to relax at all. Ichigo couldn't tell where the owner of that lone voice was, or how many of the beasts were nearby.

Not knowing was never a good thing.

A rustling to his left was the only warning he got before the first of the werewolves made itself known. The snarling, salivating mouth narrowly missed severing his head from his shoulders, but Ichigo had mastered the art of ducking long before his 'gift' had turned up. Brown eyes opened as Ichigo twisted to the side, knees bent and a single hand pressed into the soft mulch of rotting vegetation, he readied himself as he waited for his boot to touch a furred underbelly. In seconds he was able to push up and outwards. The wolf flew through the air, it's leap redirected with little finesse.

There was time to rise into a defensive crouch before the wolf struck a thin tree. Too flimsy to take the impact the wood crunched, snapping loudly as the top collapsed to the ground, dark foliage making a loud crashing sound which blocked the noise of the second wolf entirely.

Instinct made Ichigo lift Zangestsu's blade like shield just in time to protect his body, the wide length able to deflect the brunt of the attack, though the enemy's momentum slammed him backward into the rough bark of the tree he'd been resting against. Pain exploded through his back and shoulders, the numbing sensation travelling down his arms so that he had to fight to keep his grip on Zangetsu's hilt.

Teeth gritted, his lips peeled back in a vicious snarl, Ichigo struggled against the urge to collapse under the strain on his body. If he'd learned anything during recent battles it was that this pain was nothing in comparison to what he could take. To give in was to admit defeat, and Ichigo was not going to die here and leave his family and friends defenceless. That was simply unacceptable.

"You god-damned bastards," Ichigo growled out. The words a form of defiance. A refusal on his part to admit his own vulnerability. "Sneaking up on me like that, did you think that'd be enough to kill me?"

"Of course not, puny human," a rumbling voice responded.

_But where?_ Ichigo felt his eyes widen as he glanced about in every direction. There were only trees and werewolves, three now he noted absently, wherever he looked. Someone had to have said that, right? So where the hell were they hiding?

There was a woofing snort, and Ichigo set his shocked gaze on the newest addition to the wolves.

"Figured it out, have you?" Sharp canines flashed as the animal's lips moved in a disturbingly human fashion. The wolf's voice was condescending in it's amusement. "Good for you."

How many times had these creatures dismissed his abilities because of his race? Ichigo had lost count, but it never failed to irritate him. It was disrespectful to look down on him for being human, "Don't you dare mock me!"

"Such bravado, and in a situation that will surely result in your death. How very true to form," the wolf eyed him a moment, then trotted closer. As he did so – for the voice was definitely masculine – another, smaller wolf appeared from behind him. Pale, silvery fur covered the new werewolf, contrasting greatly with the others who were all dark shades of brown or possibly black. "I really would rather have you scurry along home you know, but I fear leaving you alive will be detrimental to my pack."

"Your _pack_," Ichigo spat the word out like it was a curse, "tried to kill my friend."

"Ah, I see. Unfortunately these things do happen, for I cannot be expected to control every move made by every member of my pack, every minute of every day," the furry head tilted to one side. "I can however make this relatively painless, if you let me?"

"I'm not going to lose to the likes of you!"

"Too bad you have been tainted by those holier-than-thou Reapers, I think you would have made a lovely addition to our little family."

"Heyyy, Starrk," the small wolf called out in a feminine-sounding voice. "Are you sure he's one of them? He doesn't smell like a Reaper."

Sniggering broke out between the two other wolves, and Starrk shot them a lazy-assed glare that brought instant silence, then turned back to his slender companion. "What do you expect? He's at least part human, Lilynette. Bound to smell funny."

"Wha?" The tiny wolf stared at Ichigo as though he were some sort of freak in a circus tent, before she whined a complaint; "But he doesn't smell human, either!"

Ichigo froze, confused. No matter which way he looked at it he had to be human. "You guys are crazier than my old man."

Four sets of gleaming wolf eyes fixed on him with an intensity he wasn't sure he liked. They were too close, and he still didn't know if this was the entire pack or not.

"You've dodged us twice, boy. No human, even a gifted one, could move that fast," Starrk informed him in a hard tone. "They tell you not to go after us alone?" At Ichigo's reluctant nod Starrk gave him a pointed look. "So why'd you think they did that, huh? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't because they thought you could take on a group of us and come out of it alive."

Ichigo disagreed with that statement, instead believing it had more to do with the fact he'd hardly learned how to do much more than hack at his enemies with Zangetsu. If he told the wolf that it would only confirm his stupidity in running off into the forest in the middle of the night. Alone. Without the training to actually be effective at eradicating the vermin. This could very well be a kamikaze mission, after all, and if it turned out that way he was planning on taking out as many of these creatures as he could first. Having lost his mother when he was a child because he'd been too weak to save her from the monsters, he wasn't about to lose the rest of his family to them, too.

But he wasn't planning on sacrificing himself like that either. Ichigo knew how hard his mother's death had been on his father, and his sisters.

An unnatural calm settled over him at the thought of abandoning everyone. Dying was not an option. Driving away the threat to Karakura Town, and saving everyone he cared about was more than a desire, or goal; it had become his vocation.

A grin slowly curved Ichigo's lips as he once more set his shoulders, legs spread to balance his weight, and his fingers found a more comfortable grip around Zangetsu's hilt. The werewolves noticed the shift in his demeanour, and fell into low, dangerous stances of their own.

One second passed, then another. Muscles tensed. Ichigo tried to concentrate on his breathing, and the connection he had with their auras. Now was not the time to panic.

Zangetsu moved – almost of his own accord – as the first wolf leapt forward with a growl.

Then it was pandemonium.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

There was a strange, cloying scent on the air, mixed in with the familiar musk of wolf. That in itself was enough to gain Grimmjow's attention, but it was the sound of fighting which drew him through the trees toward the nearest human settlement with an eagerness he had no intention of containing. There was nothing better than a good fight, and he wasn't much bothered which side he ended up on, either, so long as he got to exert himself. At least a little.

That was the problem with being one of the strongest supernatural beings alive; a lack of real competition. The only one he knew who'd even spar with him any longer was Ulquiorra, but the damned vampire had a stick up his ass a mile long, so those rare occasions when he'd deign to lower himself to Grimmjow's level were few and far between since Aizen's death. Aizen hadn't even been one of them, but he'd led armies of Hollows against the forces of their sworn enemies, the Reapers, all in the name of justice.

Not that Grimmjow had given a shit about that. After so long being idle he'd originally jumped at the chance of bashing a few heads in, and maybe munching on the entrails of those murdering bastards. Unlike most of the others who'd fought alongside him, he'd never trusted the turncoat Reaper with his gifts and promises. Anyone who'd lived long enough knew that civilisations rose and fell, organisations twisted and crumbled as their ideals morphed into unrecognisable bullshit, and Grimmjow had lived several lifetimes longer than most. In the end he'd expected Aizen's treason to ooze over their allies as much as their enemies, and he'd stuck around only because Ulquiorra was fascinated with Aizen. Someone had to have the vampire's back. If it wasn't Grimmjow, and something happened to the annoying idiot, he'd have never forgiven himself.

The sound of tearing meat snapped Grimmjow's attention back to the forest around him. Up ahead there was some sort of altercation happening, and at least one side involved in it was an old friend. Maybe if he was quick enough he could help sway the balance one way or the other.

Anything to get the blood pumping through his veins again.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo drew himself up once more. All of his weight was leaning on Zangetsu as he panted for breath. The werewolves had spread out, and he understood the tactic; if they could completely surround him then he'd have no chance. No one could be expected to defend themselves from every direction at once. Eventually he'd tire, make a mistake, and they'd have him. They didn't even need to put much effort into their attacks.

Angling a glare at the leader, who was watching him with deceptively sleepy eyes, Ichigo once more dodged the coordinated series of lunges, narrowly missing claws, and teeth. As it was he'd already received several cuts and scrapes, but thankfully none were directly inflicted. Just a small amount of damage done by those dangerous weapons held the risk of Turning him, if not outright poisoning him. There were antidotes available, but it was never a guaranteed cure, and as such was not to be relied on.

It was one of the risks he took by being human in this war against the Nightbeasts. If mankind was to survive at all, they had to drive these monsters from their world, or find some kind of peace. Not that peace was likely.

A yelp followed a particularly close call as Ichigo managed to slice through thick fur and cut into a wolf's side, but the tension only increased as the rich, coppery scent of blood hit the air. The night became a blur of brown and green, of snarls and claws, and Ichigo lost track of everything as he struggled to stay alive. There was no time to acknowledge the fatigue that threatened to slow his arms and legs. No chance to control his breathing, or think about pain, or worry when a set of teeth sank into the flesh of his leg before he sliced through the offender's neck. Tomorrow would be soon enough to panic over what might happen next full moon.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Starrk, Lilynette, and a couple of newish additions to their pack were facing off against a stranger when Grimmjow finally got close enough to see. Prowling through the branches of the surrounding trees, the werepanther eyed the scene warily, wondering if Starrk had developed a sadistic streak in the couple years since they'd last met. What other reason would he have not killed the ginger-haired Reaper already?

Damned things were the bane of everyone's existence. It wasn't even as if they had to live here. They had the city of Seireitei to hide in, deep within the earth's core, which was protected by their magic and perfectly safe from the greed of mankind. The Hollows had only the land they managed to hold onto as the race of man spread over the land like a plague, poisoning everything from the air to the animals and plant-life. Nothing was safe, and the damned Reapers refused to understand, or care. They'd long been disgusted by the base needs and actions Hollows lived by, blinded by their own sense of superiority.

Teeth bared at the thought, Grimmjow came to rest on a wide branch several metres downwind from the group. If this particular Reaper looked to be winning, he'd be more than happy to pitch in with the wolves, but something cautioned him to wait and watch first. A creature of instinct, Grimmjow crouched, his gaze locked on the bright-haired man with interest.

There was just something about this Reaper, something not quite right. In time he might even work out what it was.

The fighting was fast and furious. Almost fast enough to draw Grimmjow out of his tree and into the fray. The man was strong, but he didn't seem to know how to wield that strength. Was he some sort of raw recruit? Grimmjow had never heard of such a thing before, but there didn't seem to be any other explanation for all of the moves the Reaper should have made, and failed to. His reaction time was incredible, though, mostly making up for his lack of skill as he swung his Zanpakuto around like it was some kind of flail.

"Give it up, human, your time has come," Starrk called out, and Grimmjow nearly tumbled from his perch in surprise. That thing was _human_? How the hell did he have one of those magic swords, then? And what the fuck was up with his power levels?

_Human my ass_, Grimmjow thought to himself.

There was a disturbance in the air, and Grimmjow glanced up at the sky in time to watch a large bat-like creature flit down toward the fight. The newcomer's arrival paused everything as sorrowful green eyes took their time examining the human. Or Reaper. Or whatever the hell the ginger-haired man was.

"This is not your territory, Starrk," Ulquiorra commented without emotion. If Grimmjow didn't know the man so well he'd have thought he was simply stating facts. However the way Ulquiorra stood there his bat-form having fallen away, eyes never leaving the human as he addressed the werewolf, screamed irritation.

"I came to collect my wolves and discovered this pest in the process," Starrk drawled, then sat back on his haunches. His tongue lolled out of his mouth in something of a canine grin.

"Then you may leave," Ulquiorra informed him. "I will dispose of this trash myself."

"Hey!" The human hefted his over-sized sword and rested it against his shoulder. "I'm not letting those murdering bastards walk away after what they did to Orihime."

Ulquiorra veritably shivered with indignation at having been addressed in such a fashion, and Grimmjow dropped down from his tree to pad closer at the sight. If the human kept up like that he'd soon be nothing more than a corpse, and Grimm wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly interested in preventing that.

"Silence, trash."

"Oh lay off the guy, you'd be up in arms too if someone pulled that shit on me," Grimmjow drawled out as he stepped into their view with a nod at Starrk and a wink for Lilynette.

"Are you defending his actions?" Surprise turned Ulquiorra to face Grimmjow as he padded closer.

"Look at him," Grimmjow needlessly indicated the human with his head, as the squawking started up again, "Does he look like a threat to anyone? He's human enough to be useless in a fight, either he's a fool or... he was defending his own."

"As you say."

"Don't worry stranger, Starrk's gonna beat the shit outta those bad wolfies. I doubt ya'll see 'em again, and' they'll certainly never be stupid enough ta go after your little friends," Grimmjow grinned, taking in the anger blazing in dark, chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he paused, then, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Ya don't," laughed Grimmjow, before moving close enough to get a good whiff of the man's scent. Definitely not human, or not entirely so. "I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, an' the batman wannabe is Ulquiorra Schiffer. Why don't ya hop it boy, while the grown-ups have a little talk about why stepping on other people's toes is a big no-no?"

The guy's snapped out 'Bite me,' was a tempting proposition, but Grimmjow had more important things to think about. Maybe later.

"You are not letting him leave," Starrk growled just as Ulquiorra shook his head with a murmured, "Unacceptable."

Grimmjow pressed closer to Ichigo's leg, chuckling as it made the other back up, "Oh c'mon, when was the last time something this interesting turned up?"

The growl turned feral as Starrk glared across the space between them, "Aizen."

Just the one word, a name, and Ulquiorra was baring fangs at them all. Grimmjow shook his head with a sigh, shooting a look at the idiot for mentioning the vampire's one big mistake.

"This one don't have the guile ta be another Aizen," Grimmjow purred, nuzzling closer still to the leg nearest him. The most intoxicating scent was all over the guy, as though he'd sprayed himself with 'Hollow Attract'. Ichigo was frozen solid, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to follow what they were talking about. "I say we keep 'im."

Stiffening further, Ichigo lowered the point of his big-assed sword to rest against Grimmjow's muzzle, just between his eyes. "I'm not a pet."

"And you want to let him live, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra asked in a dry tone.

"Whatever," Starrk suddenly interjected with a yawn, "I'm heading home. I've got too much to do before the sun comes up as it is, and I want to get another nap in before then."

"I don't know why I tolerate any of you to live," Ulquiorra complained in a slightly peeved tone, but he made no move to kill Ichigo, or stop the werewolves from leaving.

"What about those two? Orihime could be like you next week because of them," Ichigo lifted his chin stubbornly.

Starrk paused, looked back at the human male, then shrugged his shoulders. There was a blur of movement then; Starrk and Lilynette moving as one. The two offenders never had a chance before the older, and much more powerful, werewolves had ripped their throats out. The bodies hit the ground with soft thuds, before decaying so fast it appeared as though they'd turned to dust.

"I'll come back to collect her if she turns," Starrk finally offered, his eyes strangely alert as they met Ichigo's. "If you don't want anyone else to have an accident before then I suggest you lock her up well before the full moon rises."

"I'm not handing one of my friends over to you just because one of yours infected her!" Ichigo denied hotly even as Starrk ignored him and carried on his way. Grimmjow laughed at the childishness of it, his head resting against the rough material of a pant leg. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"T'would be fucking stupid ta keep one a us 'round ordinary humans during the first few changes when they have no control, dontcha think?"

At the sudden, uncertain silence, Grimmjow moved away and turned to face Ulquiorra who was watching them both with something like speculation in his expression. "Whataya say we let 'im go home an' check up on 'is friend?"

"You will be the one to deal with him should he become too dangerous to keep alive," Ulquiorra replied at long last.

"Don't I get a say in this at all?" Ichigo snapped out angrily.

With real amusement at the spunk this guy displayed, Grimmjow shook his head, then – in an unprecedented display of compassion – he met Ichigo's infuriated gaze. "Go see if she's gonna be okay. Ya now one a us, so ya'll be safe enough once I get the word out. Just don't be stupid enough ta tell them Reapers, 'cause they'll kill ya fer it."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"I dunno if I wanna eat 'im, or fuck 'im," Grimmjow drawled out a little while later, his azure eyes and sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. His companion arched an eyebrow, not even bothering to glance away from the path Ichigo had disappeared along to look at the werepanther.

"Must you be so vulgar?" The cultured tones of Ulquiorra's voice barely rose above a whisper as he contemplated the unexpected situation; they'd let a human Hunter walk away unscathed. It remained to be seen if he could be trusted, no matter how surprising – and incredibly stupid – his words.

Beside the unnaturally still vampire, the panther flexed his claws into the soft earth underfoot, "Heh, he's gotten ta ya too, ain't he?"

Dark hair fluttered as Ulquiorra turned at last, his piercing green eyes meeting blue. The forest quieted even further as though holding it's collective breath against the possibility of a death match breaking out between the two powerful creatures. Only the sound of Grimmjow's bone-like armour clinking as he settled once more broke the stillness.

"Trash is not worth killing," Ulquiorra murmured, the air suddenly shimmering around him as he switched to his bat-form. Using his legs for leverage, the winged man took flight with a snap of the leathery membranes.

"Does that mean ya wanna fuck 'im, then?" The panther called out with amusement. Though there was no answer he knew his friend well enough to know that remark had rattled him. Usually so very careful of every word and phrase that passed his cold, dead lips, Ulquiorra would be kicking himself over that particular slip for months to come.

Alone now in the night with only the mess left behind from the previous skirmish, Grimmjow glanced up at the overcast sky. That Ichigo guy was the most interesting thing he'd discovered in longer than he cared to think about. His scent lingered in the air; as sweet as strawberries with just a hint of something spicy. A shiver shot down his spine as Grimmjow inhaled deeply to make sure he'd remember it, the over-sized cat closed his eyes for a long moment. Oh yeah, one way or another he was going to have that young man squirming under him, and soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, and I make no money from playing in his sandbox.

**Warnings:** Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.

**Summary:** Ichigo is disturbed by his thoughts after his encounter with the Vampire, and wereanimals. Not sure why they let him escape, he returned to Karakura Town in confusion. There he discovers that Orihime will live, but the more worrisome question now is; Will they both still be human after the full moon in just five days time?

**A/N:** I seem to have acquired a number of not-so-secret stalkers. *waves* I don't bite, ya know. I leave that to the hotties... well mostly. As to everyone else; thank you for taking the time to review! There's nothing more encouraging than knowing you're out there waiting for the next chapter.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo growled to himself as he stomped moodily through the forest with little care or discretion. Only a lifetime of experience had allowed him to not trip over tree roots, or poke his eyes out on the sharp branches which stuck out higgledy-piggledy under the cover of darkness, as his mind blindly raged on. Those creatures were despicable! How dare they just decide what side he was on as though it was any of their business, and then tell him how to behave?

Angered by the thought, he was able to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head for several long minutes. The voice that pointed out that they could have killed him; he'd been beyond outnumbered, and outclassed. Yet for some unknown reason they'd chosen to let him go. Just like that. As though he was about as intimidating as a half-drowned kitten.

Okay, so he didn't have the ability to throw bolts of lightning at his enemies like the Reapers could, but he'd been training to fight and defend himself for most of his life. Maybe that combat training was more of a hobby to most people these days considering how useless humans were in comparison to what all else was out there. He'd studied hard, and been good at it. It wasn't his fault the damned Nightbeasts were all insanely powerful inhuman monsters.

A moment later his shoulders drooped. Blaming others for his failures and shortcomings was cowardly; he'd just have to get stronger so he could fight them on their terms. Ichigo firmly believed that those with the ability to do so had the obligation to protect those weaker than themselves. Refusing to back down and play the part of defenceless human had drawn Kuchiki Rukia to him three months ago, and saving her life straight after had only solidified his case. Even so most of the other Reapers treated him like he was some sort of oddity, without really taking him seriously.

Human Hunters were nigh on unheard of because they generally didn't live long enough to get a reputation. Ichigo had been warned that his life expectancy could now be counted in days, instead of years, unless he reconsidered. It was due to his stubborn personality that he'd managed to gain the chance to fight against the monsters at all, but so far he'd been reduced to little fry who were practically mindless zombies compared to the group he'd confronted not ten minutes ago.

Which brought his mind back to the werewolves who'd died tonight. The ones who'd possibly infected Orihime, or just plain killed her. Until he got back to the medic centre his family ran he could only hope for the best, and console himself with the knowledge that her attackers were no longer a threat to anyone, even if Ichigo hadn't killed them himself.

Why had that Starrk guy executed his own pack members, and given up on his chance at slaughtering a Hunter? Were those other two stronger than him, or was there something else going on? Ichigo had certainly never heard of weres of any kind working with vampires before, except during the Chaos Years, when some uber-powerful Reaper had defected in the hopes of strengthening himself enough to take over the entire world. The fallout had been devastating, the effects still felt a decade later in the form of colder winters, and shortened summers. Kurosaki Misaki had been one in a long line of casualties the renegade had been responsible for, and at long last Ichigo was sure he had a name to go with that faceless monster; _Aizen_.

Which was all well and good, but the man had already been dead for ten years.

A sigh escaped Ichigo's lips as he reminded himself that revenge was not possible, nor particularly honourable, and made his way into town. The gates stood open, ancient iron hinges having long since rusted permanently into that position. Brown eyes glanced at them only long enough to wonder what it would take for the townsfolk to fix them, then he simply walked past. Not that the things would protect anyone from vampires like that Ulquiorra guy anyway. Wings seemed unfair really, what with them having supernatural strength, and speed to begin with.

Then there was Grimmjow, the strange, white panther with the brilliant blue eyes. Ichigo clenched his fists. The sound of the creature's voice had been so incredibly deep that it had sent little tremors throughout Ichigo's body at the sound. He'd gotten so close, too close for comfort, those deadly claws and sharp teeth practically pressed up against Ichigo's leg, but instead of taking a bite he'd nuzzled into the material like a... well like a giant cat. Even now Ichigo swore he could feel the strange hardness of the armour-plating the creature had been encased in rubbing against his shin.

"I'll never be one of them," Ichigo muttered under his breath. Did they, no _he_ – Grimmjow – really think stating it aloud made such an outrageous claim true? They didn't know yet if the poison burning faintly in his leg was going to Turn him, or kill him, and he had every intention of taking the precautions needed to make sure that it did neither. Deep in the recesses of his mind however, he couldn't help fearing that he had no real choice. Maybe Grimmjow hadn't _released_ him, only let him _think_ he was safe. Exactly like a cat playing with a mouse; he'd let go of the mouse and was now stalking it, sadistically savouring the one-sided chase. Ichigo shook his head to rid himself of that image, the shiver of unease it inspired causing him to glance back over one shoulder at the darkened road behind him. If the Hunter didn't Turn, would the werepanther come back to intentionally infect him?

A few minutes later he pushed open the back door of the house-cum-clinic his father had set up. Some twenty years ago it had been a meeting hall and rectory, but the town mayor had requisitioned funds to plan and build more modern, and much more adaptable, premises. Kurosaki Isshin had gladly taken on the work of converting the place into its current use, determined to spend more time with his family without giving up the ability to be there for his patients should they need him. The small upper floor and the back areas were residential, but the front – and larger section of the building – contained the facilities needed to treat patients. There were several small rooms with beds for those who couldn't be sent home right away, and an operating theatre where Ichigo often helped his father perform life-saving procedures. A small waiting room with a reception desk usually had one of the twins keeping watch, though occasionally it was left empty and relied on people using the bell to gain someone's attention.

Ichigo slipped into the large family kitchen and found it empty, so he strode through a metal door leading into a long corridor with many other doors on either wall, and another free-swinging one at the far end. Gaze fixed on the label boxes beside each closed door as he passed, he searched for Orihime's name. She had to be okay, he couldn't let himself think otherwise or his anger would get out of control again, and that was what had sent him rushing headlong into the forest after those mangy wolves to begin with.

Heart in his throat, Ichigo paused when his eyes caught sight of _Inoue Orihime _carefully spelt out in his little sister, Yuzu's perfect handwriting. At least this meant Orihime was still alive, now it only remained to be seen if she was going to become one of the monsters in five days time when the full moon rose once more. If she Turned would he have to kill her, or would one of the Reapers do it?

Ichigo glanced down at his blood-coated leg, and then back up at the closed door. Perhaps they would _both_ have an appointment with the wrong end of a Reaper's blade come then. He didn't even want to consider what the wolf had offered, and it hadn't been extended to _him_, had it?

Shoulders set, Ichigo pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened room beyond. Only a single, dim light allowed him to see the covered form on the narrow cot. Long hair he knew to be a shade of red much like his own, which looked to be soft brown in the dark spilled over a pillow and curled over the side of the mattress, where it dangled toward the floor. The steady rise and fall of the blankets reassured him that she was still breathing, that he'd not abandoned her to die in Chad's care. Guilt weighed heavily upon him, regardless. He should have stayed with her, should have protected her better in the first place.

Just as he was about to turn around and hunt down his father for more information about her condition, he was forced to duck under a flying foot, as an irritatingly excited voice echoed in the corridor.

"Ichigo, my son! Welcome ho..."

Instantly on the defensive, Ichigo lashed out, his booted foot connecting with a satisfying _crunch_. Blood sprayed in every direction as Kurosaki Isshin clutched at his face, fingers splayed over his nose. With any luck it was broken this time, though Ichigo sorely doubted that would be enough to stop the idiot from trying to sneak attack him – the very next time they were reunited after more than five minutes apart.

"Oh! How cruel our son is my dearly departed wife!" Isshin cried dramatically, his babbling on the verge of being incoherent.

"Oi, stop it, goat-face!" Ichigo snapped, lowering his head to peer closer at his father where he'd landed on the floor, and on his ass no less. "I wanna know if Inoue will be okay?"

Too fast for the previous act to have been real, Isshin was standing, his features composed. Though the bleeding hadn't completely stopped yet, and Ichigo could see the cartilage was misshapen which told him he had indeed broken his father's nose. Again. Unfortunately the man was tough as old boot leather underneath his theatrics. There would be no real reprieve from the idiocy while Isshin healed.

"About that; I was just coming to find you. I'm in need of a few supplies from Urahara's," Isshin suddenly looked his age as he glanced down the corridor. "There have been too many attacks recently."

_Ain't that the truth?_ Ichigo thought to himself. He'd been too cautious, too keen to follow orders from Rukia – the Reaper he knew best – to stray outside the town walls after dark. Until tonight Ichigo'd never come across a Nightbeast he couldn't win against – though some of the first ones had knocked him about badly enough that it had been questionable – but after finding out that his recklessness could get Rukia in trouble he'd been quick to listen. Just teaching him to call Zangetsu should have given her a death sentence, and would have if her brother and best friend hadn't offered to help keep watch over the gifted human. Ichigo felt guilt swimming up to choke him at the thought that he'd run off and disobeyed the first chance he had.

"Shouldn't happen again for a little while," Ichigo confided quietly. "The werewolves involved died tonight." At least he hoped they had been the same ones who'd attacked the other townsfolk, and not just Orihime.

There was a brief silence, during which Isshin's eyes flashed with a combination of blatant shock and curiosity quickly followed by worry, fear, and something Ichigo couldn't quite name. Isshin's mouth worked soundlessly for a time before he finally managed to croak out, "You?"

Strangely loath to divulge exactly what had happened, Ichigo hesitated, then gave his father a greatly edited version of events. He left out things like names, Grimmjow's declaration that he was one of them now, and the fact that there had been a vampire involved at all. The idea that Grimmjow could possibly – somehow – sense that he'd Turn during the coming full moon made his insides twist into uncomfortable knots. Time enough to worry about losing his humanity later, if it came down to it.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Urahara's was an apothecary and general store, the combination of which might have seemed strange if Ichigo hadn't grown up in the same town as the man who owned the business. Urahara Kisuke was one of those men who never seemed to age, and was therefore impossible to peg correctly. Certainly older than Ichigo by at least a decade and a half, he didn't look to be older than about thirty, which was confusing as Ichigo was already in his twenties. Theories abounded as to how this was possible, with the most recurrent belief being that he'd somehow discovered a chemical form of the Fountain of Youth.

Ichigo had never bought into that one, as he knew the tricky bastard well enough; he wouldn't have been able to refrain from trying it out on others. With or without their knowledgeable consent.

The bell over the door rang out cheerily as Ichigo stepped over the threshold. There was a single step just inside, and then scared hardwood floorboards stretched the length of the shop until it reached the raised area with the store's counter. Directly in front of him was an aisle created by two long rows of shelving along either side, filled with everything from electricians cord to wall brackets; home made sweets, jams and preserves; and a collection of woman's clothing that always left Ichigo feeling vaguely embarrassed if he happened to look too hard at them. The far left of the shop was never as brightly illuminated as the rest, and contained a number of Urahara's more worrisome inventions, including the 'fortified' shampoo which had unexpectedly turned one person into a miniaturised horse for three days, and left another with – so far – permanently green hair. Why anyone dared to take their lives into their own hands by trying out these products Ichigo had never been able to understand.

What most of the town didn't know was that Urahara was also a deadly fighter with more than a passing knowledge of the occult. Ichigo had suspicions over the man's history now that he'd met Kuchiki Rukia, and seen what the pint-sized girl could do. Her kido was awfully similar to some of Urahara's more unusual magical 'techniques'. However the man had evaded the question on a number of occasions when Ichigo had tried to pry information out of the surprisingly tight-lipped individual. Who knew that Urahara – the worst gossip in town – could keep _anything_ secret?

Just as Ichigo reached the counter there was a whisper of sound, followed by the sudden appearance of Urahara himself. The man's ridiculous green and white hat shadowed his eyes for a long second as the two of them stared at each other wearily, then a broad grin replaced the shop owner's serious expression as he tapped a folded fan against his chin.

"I was just about to close up and have a nice cup of tea. Whatever brings you here at this time of the night, hm?" The fan snapped open and rose so that Urahara was peeking over the edge of it in a disturbingly suggestive manner.

"Dad wants all of this," Ichigo muttered, a frown etched into his face at the man's behaviour as Ichigo handed over the list he'd been given. It wasn't like Urahara couldn't be serious, he just had a terribly playful attitude that he delightedly indulged in as a mask for his very intelligent mind. It left most people under the impression that he was possibly insane, but mostly harmless. Ichigo had quickly learned his lesson over that particular mistake back when he'd first started training with him.

"My, my," Urahara clicked the fan shut and spun around, then raised one hand in the air to beckon over his shoulder for Ichigo to follow him. "I'm not sure I have all of the ingredients he's asking for back here. I was not aware of there having been another attack?"

"Inoue Orihime might not make it through another week," Ichigo informed him, his voice low with resignation and disgust. Just saying it made him want to hit something. Why was he always too slow to help those who really needed it? First his mother, then that business with his sisters, and now Orihime was fighting against the evil trying to consume her soul.

Urahara paused, his head bowed forward slightly, "That is unhappy news. Miss Inoue always brightens any room with her presence." Ichigo felt his eyes widen in shock at the compliment, but of course Urahara had to then ruin the moment by adding, "And I was so looking forward to her promise to model my newest lingerie line. For some reason Yoruichi refused to help me!"

With a squawk of indignation at the unwanted images in his head – which were by no means detailed – of his friend, alongside the very exotic and beautiful Yoruichi, posing in skimpy, inappropriate, and down-right _rude_ undergarments while being leered at by the pervert in front of him, Ichigo snatched the nearest weapon available and brought it down over the shopkeeper's head. Years of sparring with the man allowed Ichigo to get at least a partial hit in, but Urahara was as difficult to catch as a greased pig. With nearly inhuman speed he ducked away from the thick handle of the broom before it could do much damage, one hand up to keep the bucket-shaped hat in place.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have taken the lovely lady up on her offer if she'd so nicely extended it to you instead," he laughed as he shot Ichigo a knowing look. Or that was what Ichigo assumed it was meant to be, but he'd known Orihime his entire life, and viewed her like another sister, so the thought of being sexually interested in her at all left him feeling nauseated, which far exceeded his natural disinterest with the female form.

Embarrassed as much as he was grossed out – and unwilling to set the man straight on his true sexuality – Ichigo gritted his teeth, knowing better than to deny it. That kind of thing only fed the man's sick and twisted mind after all.

"Just get that stuff, will ya?" Ichigo grumbled, ignoring the gleam of triumph in the other man's eyes. "I'd like to get some sleep in before the sun rises."

They ducked through a pair of curtains hung in lieu of a door, and entered a narrow space where both walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves. Bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes filled every available space, indecipherable ink markings indicating their contents only to Urahara and those few who had learned how to read his chicken-scratchings. This task was made even harder by the fact that none of it was even in the same language or correctly labelled. From experience Ichigo knew that translations could be anything from '_blue-grey powder_', to '_other white seeds_'. It was possible that Urahara didn't actually know what most of these minerals and chemical compounds were actually called (which Ichigo doubted), or they could have been partially 'discovered' through a series of trials and errors so he was making up names for them legitimately. In any case Ichigo was just grateful that his medical concoctions seldom had undesirable side-effects, and usually did the task they'd been created for.

Although a few accidents had happened over the years, none, as yet, had been fatal.

Ichigo watched his mentor throw together the contents of several different jars into a bowl, took the ones he was told to carry, and followed Urahara into his living quarters. The first room was a kind of dining area, with a low table sunk into the floor, and cushions scattered around to be used as seating. Just as Ichigo placed the last item on the tabletop a tall, muscular man with black-rimmed glasses, a thick moustache, and a pink apron tied around his waist ducked into the room carrying a tray. Resting securely on the tray was a delicate teapot, and two matching cups. In Tsukabishi Tessai's big hands the thing looked ridiculously small and out of place.

Not a word was said as Urahara's assistant set the tray down, bowed at the neck ever-so-subtly, then backed out of the room with a grace that was unexpected in one so large.

Distracted by the arrival of his tea, Urahara hummed happily to himself, completely ignoring the reason for Ichigo's visit as he settled down and filled both cups. Reluctantly accepting a cup with both hands when it was offered, Ichigo inhaled the aroma with closed eyes. The blend was fruity and sweet, just like something his mother would have served. The familiarity of the situation encouraged a welcome calm he'd not felt for weeks, and with it the tension he hadn't even been aware of carrying melted away from his shoulders. When he opened his eyes he found Urahara watching him closely, the usual light-hearted mask no longer in place.

Ichigo found himself informed, in all seriousness, "I'm going to add an extra course's worth to the medicine your father requested for Miss Inoue, free of charge." Wide honey brown eyes locked with dark grey, then the frozen moment was shattered as Urahara cocked his head to one side and smiled happily.

There was no point in asking how the man knew Ichigo had been injured, or thanking him for his thoughtfulness. In fact Ichigo couldn't help but question Urahara's profession of ignorance over Orihime's attack, for how could he have known Ichigo had been bitten without knowing how and why? Sometimes the man's gossip network was too good to be believed, and suddenly Ichigo's palms were sweaty with a new fear; did Urahara Kisuke know what Grimmjow had told him earlier? There was no sane reason to hold such information back from a man who was practically family, but Ichigo couldn't force himself to speak of it. Just the thought of anyone else, anyone at all, knowing that Grimmjow had decided to protect him, claim him as one of the monsters, left Ichigo fighting a wave of foreboding.

Something about all this was not right, and Ichigo didn't know what to do about it.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

_A warm hand slid down a smooth, muscular chest. Dangerous and slow, it moved over a sculpted stomach, and inexorably toward slender hips and lower things. So close, but not exactly where it was needed. Wanted._

Ichigo arched off the bed with a needy moan that was so loud it instantly broke through the dream. Every breath was a pant, his body complaining about the lack of contact as his mind stumbled over the intensity of it all. Never had he felt anything like it; this craving. No dream should feel so real.

But that was the funny thing; most of it had faded already, which left him confused and horny. There was but one, tiny clue as to who had inspired his current... problem.

With a groan of denial, Ichigo sat up and ran a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back from his clammy forehead. From this position he could see out of his bedroom window through the age-warped shutters.

The colour on his mind was painted across the early morning sky as though mocking him like an accusing finger. Blue so bright it seemed to glow, and in his mind's eye Ichigo saw once more the shimmering of moonlight in a feline face. Eyes to rival the cloudless sky stared at him in hunger, and Ichigo knew that with very little effort their owner could strike him down. There would be no time to raise Zangetsu in self defence, though admitting it went against every self preservation instinct he had.

So why did he suddenly feel sure that it would never come down to that?

Closing his eyes, Ichigo flopped back onto the bed, one hand flung over his face to block out the light. Any minute now Yuzu could be knocking on the door to tell him breakfast was ready, but he couldn't let go of that insane conviction that Grimmjow wouldn't hurt him.

It scared him how much he wanted to believe it.

Was this a sign that Urahara's antidote to werewolf venom had failed? When the moon rose four nights from now, would Ichigo lose himself to a desire to destroy, ravage, and possibly eat everything he cared about? It was plausible, of course.

The Reapers would have no choice but to destroy him if they found out.

After a moment Ichigo sat back up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. There wasn't any time to feel sorry for himself. Other people counted on him every day. He had to check up on Orihime, find out what the hell was going on with the Reapers, and if he was destined to Turn he'd just have to find the courage to confess his stupidity to Urahara, or Rukia, or whatever, and just make sure that he didn't hurt anyone he cared for.

Even if protecting _them_ meant protecting them from _himself_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me, sadly.

**Warnings: **Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.

**Summary:** Grimmjow gets an unexpected visitor who brings disturbing news. Meanwhile Ichigo tries to carry out everyday tasks without thinking about the previous night's activities, with little success.

**A/N:** Okay folks; I'm looking for icons to use for this fic on both and livejournal. I need to know who made them, too, so I can credit them. One for each of the boys, individual shots, and preferably pretty ones. Anyone with any ideas hit me with a PM, please.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Sunlight shone through the trees making misshapen shadows dance over the brightly coloured fallen leaves littering the forest floor like so much confetti. Although it was autumn it had been a mild one so far, and today was warm enough to feel like summer. Grimmjow lay back against the base of a large tree on the bank of a lazy stream, situated deep within his territory. He'd relinquished his panther-form in favour of the human-like shape he'd never been as comfortable with. It was never as fast, or as coordinated as his panther one, and thanks to the predilection toward two legs instead of four it's balance was all off, too.

While he lazed around watching the sunlight filtering through the trees he was aware of several facts. The primary one being that Reapers could travel during the day, and looking like this was less attention-seeking than his preferred form. The bone-like armour he summoned to his panther-self tended to give him away even faster than wandering around in the shape of an animal which had never naturally roamed this landscape. And for once he wanted to be left alone.

Fighting the Reapers gave his life meaning, and kept his skills honed, so long as he afforded them a sporting chance. But the war for freedom, for their right to _exist_, had taken its toll on their numbers, and on _Ulquiorra_ – which was something Grimmjow actually cared about. Even now the vampire was hanging from the ceiling of their bedroom, still in his bat/man-form, with those powerful wings of his wrapped around his body as though desperately in need of comfort. A low, rumbling growl trickled out of Grimmjow's mouth at the memory of walking in on that first thing this morning. So much for his plan of crawling into their bed and holding that cold body until his own warmth seeped into Ulquiorra's dead limbs. Starrk's words had obviously affected him more than Ulquiorra was willing to admit, and it had driven him away. Not far enough to leave Grimmjow ready to go kick a little furry wolf butt – even knowing Starrk would give back better than he got – but this was bad.

Damn that Aizen. Damn him to all the worst levels of Hell.

With a sigh, Grimmjow forced his mind away from his personal problems and focused instead on the good points of last night; Kurosaki Ichigo of the bright red hair and glowering eyes, and that irresistible scent that begged for Grimmjow to bite into him, or fuck him. Or maybe both. It had been too long since he'd last met someone who could have that kind of effect on him, a few hundred years at least, he suspected. Just after he'd evolved the sentience to perceive the difference between a meal and possible allies.

Ichigo stood smack-dab on the borderline between those two possibilities. By wielding that huge-assed sword of his, he declared himself a Reaper, with all they represented; the death, prejudice, and down-right idiocy which seemed to be an intrinsic part of their race. Yet there was something else, something wilder, almost Hollow about his scent. Grimmjow couldn't explain it, and he'd not had the chance to speak of it with Ulquiorra before the vampire had closed himself off from the world for the daylight hours. Maybe he was imagining things? The young man _could_ simply be highly susceptible to were-venom after all. It was just Grimmjow had never known anyone to Turn that fast, and his instincts told him that the bite the human had taken had nothing to do with that peculiar smell of his. If he was ever actually _human_ to begin with.

A rustling sound across the stream caught his attention, and Grimmjow tensed the movement subtle, muscles ready to propel him into instant motion. Suddenly a figure with a shock of messy green hair – much lower to the ground than he was expecting – burst out of a clump of tangled foliage and sharp thorns, thumped into the ground face-first, eventually righted itself in a dazed, confused scramble of limbs, and then huge hazel eyes glimmered wetly in Grimmjow's direction.

"Gwimm-kitty!" The excited, childish voice screeched with all the enthusiasm of the truly young, and Nel sprang toward his position as though there wasn't a body of water between them deep enough to drown in. Which of course she promptly fell into.

With a put-upon sigh, Grimmjow stood up and went to fetch her out before her flailing could succeed where countless foolish Hollows had failed.

When he reached her he used one hand to lift the little body into the air by the scruff of her neck, and brought their faces together. "Are ya fuckin' retarded?" Grimmjow asked semi-rhetorically, his forehead resting against hers as he stared at her for a second before he turned and waded back to shore.

"Nel so sowwy, Gwimmy. Nel din't espect ta do tha'," Nel's voice sounded sincere, and from experience Grimmjow knew she didn't mean any harm.

"Yeah, yeah, kid," he responded in good humour. "Give me a sec and I'll get ya summthin' ta change inta," he told her, with a stern look that said 'stay the fuck there' as he set her down.

With a frown at his drenched trousers, he made his way to the cave system he and Ulquiorra had converted to their use some years ago. The entrance was partially covered by a huge cluster of blackberry bushes that required some skill to navigate without becoming sliced up. Grimmjow slid through the opening with practised ease, and made his way into the darkened passageway. It twisted, turned, and took several steps downward before expanding into a space that was roughly the size of a small house. There were lit candelabras spread around between the large sofa, the over-stuffed bookshelves, the small desk and chair, and the kitchen area which consisted of a range, counter and storage cupboard. The cellar was through a rough-hewn door at the back, which doubled as a larder.

Further back there were another three 'rooms', one contained a cleverly designed bathing room, there was a toilet, and the final room was the bedroom where Ulquiorra was sulking. It wasn't cold or damp, and thanks to help from their friends it was more than comfortable. Unfortunately it wasn't safe to bring Nel into their den with Ulquiorra unaware. Anything could happen, and mistakes had been known to happen when vampires slept during the day. It had taken decades for Ulquiorra to get used to Grimmjow's comings and goings. Nel's visits were not nearly so frequent.

Grimmjow snatched a couple towels from the shelf, stripped out of his wet trousers, quickly found another set, and shoved his feet into them on the move. There was no telling what kind of trouble that little brat might get herself into whenever anyone was unwise enough to take their eyes off her.

Back outside in under two minutes, Grimmjow made his way to where he'd left her, but the area was empty. If she'd been stupid enough to try entering their den on her own he was going to kill her himself. Just because Nel didn't have those territorial instincts didn't mean the rest of them didn't. Besides, being the cause of his irritation was ample excuse for dunking her head under the stream for a good five minutes or so, he was sure. Justified even. Might even clean out that nasty nasal problem she had.

Eyes narrow slits, Grimmjow glanced around, but it wasn't only his sight he was employing in the search. In this form his ears were not as good, but they were still far superior to human ones, and his nose was nearly as powerful as Starrk's was in his wolf-form. Even so, it was Grimmjow's ability to sense reiatsu – an individual's spiritual signature – that he concentrated on. It only took a moment to realise that Nel was masking hers, though that was no real surprise; she'd have died a long time ago if she didn't have that instinct. Then he picked up a faint scent trail and headed cautiously in that direction. What he hadn't been expecting was to push through a clump of bushes and find an adult woman's backside staring him in the face. Scantily-clad as it waved back and forth provocatively, he could only stand there and watch; bemused, as Nelliel did whatever the fuck she was doing.

After a time he walked forward to drop the towel over her. There was no reaction at first, which was most likely because she was far more powerful than he was, and had probably felt him long before he'd figured out where she'd disappeared to.

"Have you noticed anything strange lately?" Long white fingers were playing in the river weeds, dancing around the tiny fish hiding in the shade there.

The question threw him for a moment, finally Grimmjow raised a hand to stroke through his hair. It was a leftover gesture from his panther-form. One of those things cats did to reassure themselves through comforting touches and familiar tasks. It did nothing to stop the laughter which escaped him in a harsh burst of sound. "D'ya forget where we live?"

"I'm not talking about the normal stuff," Nelliel shifted, one hand snatched the towel and plopped it over her shoulders as she settled back on her knees. There was no real need to dry herself as the child-like dress had morphed with her change from Nel-the-kid to Nelliel-the-woman. Too bad it looked like it was still two or three sizes too small, and her rather full breasts were in jeopardy of spilling out into the open. He could have done without the almost-peep-show. Nelliel turned her head, hazel eyes resembling storm clouds rather than their usual calm greyish-green. Traces of dark blue ringed the edges, then bled into the grey like an ink stain.

Grimmjow shook his head, "Nothin' stranger than normal," he started and then faltered. What about that Kurosaki guy? Then there were Starrk's wolves. The weird shit was sort of piling up. "Well, there was this one thing last night."

Nelliel didn't look surprised. "You mean that clash between the Hunter and Starrk's pack?"

"Yeah, and I was gonna tell ya ta leave the human alone," he paused to think. "Uh, ya mean there's somethin' else goin' on around here?"

Nelliel shrugged. "Gin mentioned something about Hollows becoming less controlled. Like when Aizen was gearing up for the war. I thought I'd check the rumours out for myself. I'm under the impression Szayel's recent observations are worrying Gin."

Grimmjow snorted in amusement at that. Szayel's observations would worry anyone with half a brain, but he didn't think that was what Nelliel was talking about right now.

Just after the war Szayel had taken specimens from the battlefield. One of these had been Gin, who'd been so close to death no one had expected him to live. But he had. Whether it was because Szayel had a soft spot for the creepy ex-Reaper, or because it aroused his scientific curiosity, it seemed that he'd not only saved the man's life – which was a shock in itself – but kept him around afterwards. There had been many weaker Hollows over the years who had been nothing more than living tools in Szayel's experiments, but for whatever reason Gin was not added to their ranks. Yet he stayed. Secretly Grimmjow thought it was because the ex-Reaper didn't have anywhere else to go with his precious Aizen dead. That and he was probably fucking the pink haired freak.

"Anythin' ya can share?"

"Just alphas not being obeyed. Random attacks on human settlements. Nothing too serious, yet," Nelliel smiled then, but the expression was one of sadness instead of joy. "I've been to see Starrk, which is where I heard about your Hunter trouble. That wasn't the first time in the past few weeks he's lost control of pack members."

That was news to Grimmjow, there again, he wasn't one to pay that much attention to what everyone else was doing. So long as they kept their noses out of his business Grimmjow left them to theirs. It was simple really.

"Starrk have to kill them?" Grimmjow asked. Nelliel nodded the affirmative.

Grimmjow cursed with feeling, then sat down beside her on the grassy bank. The sun was overhead here, rather than indirectly filtering through the leaves to get to him, but he couldn't truly bask in the warmth of it like part of him wanted to. Things were getting dire if the strongest of them couldn't keep his people in line.

Then another idea hit Grimmjow and he couldn't keep back the insane grin which pulled his lips apart, flashing his teeth. Beside him Nelliel noticed, and nodded silently to herself as though she'd been expecting as much.

The most likely cause of this trouble was another strong Hollow, one who was calling to the lesser ones. Which meant Grimmjow was looking at the possibility of a good fight. A battle of wills. Not even Aizen had been strong enough to force Grimmjow to bow to him, all that shit he'd done during the war had been for Ulquiorra's benefit. Which then froze the expression on his face into a parody of a rictus smile. If this unknown creature was as big of a threat to Ulquiorra as Aizen had been, Grimmjow was going to take great pleasure in ripping them limb from limb with his bare hands.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo had fixed a broken arm, cleaned, sutured, and bandaged a few unpleasant injuries, and even found the time to prescribe no less than thirty different courses of medication (with his father's approval), two of which were only placebos, but that was par for the course in a town this size. The gossip mill had been relentlessly focused on Orihime's well-being, and the recent attacks. Above and beyond that there was something in the air that Ichigo didn't like; a type of quiet panic which worried him.

Tired, and grateful for the knowledge that he'd not have to listen to any more of it for the day unless there was an emergency, Ichigo finished the last of his paperwork and headed toward Orihime's room. He'd had a chance to check on her first thing this morning, but had been too busy to return throughout the day, including during the quick lunch break he'd taken around one o'clock. The fact his leg was still burning faintly made his thoughts constantly swing toward his friend, and the fate they might be facing together.

Which of course then led him into thoughts of last night, and that stupid dream he'd woken up to this morning.

All day he'd had the same themes playing over and again in his head. Ichigo felt as though his inner thoughts were contaminated. Infected by the venom he'd been self-treating. It made little sense for a future werewolf to be obsessed with the panther, so maybe he had it all wrong? Perhaps he was just a pervert who fancied a bit of feline instead of canine? He'd never particularly liked dogs, anyway, though he'd never before been attracted to animals.

Frustrated with this line of thought, Ichigo paused outside Orihime's room, forced himself to push everything but her health from his mind, and opened the door. Bright light spilled into the room from the solitary window, illuminating her bright red hair, the colour a shade or two lighter than his own. Which only meant hers looked less like a tangerine and more like carrot soup. There were times when he couldn't help but wonder if they shared an ancestor somewhere down the line.

Orihime turned from Sado 'Chad' Yasutora to look at the door, and smiled with pure happiness as she spotted Ichigo. The corners of her eyes crinkled becomingly with the expression. Which did nothing to alleviate the innocence in those innocent brown depths.

"Have you finished for the day, Ichigo?" Orihime asked.

"Ah..," Ichigo stepped fully into the room and pulled the door closed behind him, "Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed. I was about to head over to Urahara's." A glance at Chad gave him no clue as to whether he'd interrupted anything between the pair of them, but he kind of thought he had. "I didn't see you come in, Chad."

The large man eyed him with a sense of calm that Ichigo had seldom seen him lose. Warmth in his gaze and voice, Chad nodded slightly. "I spoke to Yuzu. She said you were with a patient."

"Um, I wouldn't mind a magazine or something, if it wouldn't be too much trouble? Your dad, I mean, Dr Kurosaki said I have to stay here for another night," Orihime tilted her head to one side, a finger pressed to her bottom lip as she stared off into space in thought. "I don't have a pet or anything, and it's just too much to let Tatsuki look after me like she wanted. So I think it will be okay," she blinked a few times then refocused on Ichigo, holding her finger out in the air between them now as though making a point. "Karin told Mrs Arisawa that I was too ill to come into work, so no one's going to be worried or anything."

Ichigo found himself grinning in the face of her rambling. It was good to know that Karin, Yuzu's twin, had seen fit to inform the closest thing Orihime had to family about the... accident. The thought drew Ichigo's eyes to the bandages peeking out of the neckline of Orihime's blouse, and along her right arm. The wolves had left deep claw marks down her chest to her belly, and bitten both her arm and upper thigh. Nothing so serious that it would have killed her had they been disease-free animals, but the venom left things more chancy than Ichigo wanted to contemplate.

At least the incident hadn't wiped away her carefree, sweet disposition. There were other patients who had been unresponsive since their traumatic experiences. They seemed to be waiting for the night of the full moon. Waiting to see if their lives would continue, or if they'd be hunted down and exterminated like rats in a barrel. Orihime smiled even now as though her life were not hanging by a steadily unravelling thread.

"Did you want anything in particular?" Ichigo asked her as he forced his mind back on track. This was still not the time to be thinking about that werewolf stuff. The wound on his leg throbbed as though it agreed with him.

"Well I don't have the newest cooking one I buy," Orihime frowned cutely, then brightened up as though she'd thought of something. "Ask Mr Urahara, he knows what I like."

"I'll do that," Ichigo spun on one heel and opened the door, then on an afterthought glanced back over one shoulder. "Thanks for last night Chad, I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been there to take care of Orihime."

"You're welcome, Ichigo," Chad informed him in his quiet way. As usual it was as though those few words held worlds of information he'd never actually spoken aloud. Ichigo nodded slightly to say that he understood what his best friend meant, then waved his fingers at them both on his way out of the room.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Did Miss Inoue like her magazine?"

Urahara's curiosity caught Ichigo unawares, and he spun, Zangetsu a hairsbreadth from slicing into a stubble-roughened throat. Eyes wide, Ichigo carefully lowered his weapon. The entirety of his arm trembled with the effort it had taken not to behead the shopkeeper. Concentrating so hard he hadn't noticed someone walking up behind him was dangerous and suicidal, especially as Ichigo had aspirations of becoming the first successful human Hunter.

"My, my, that's not like you, Ichigo," Urahara pointed out. Though his tone was teasing, Ichigo could tell he'd shaken the man ever-so-slightly.

"Sorry," Ichigo glanced down at the sword he held.

"Don't apologise, it was impressive that you stopped in time, considering," Urahara waved the end of his walking stick in the air in emphasis. "You're still putting too much force and not enough control behind your swings."

Ichigo smirked at that. Trust Urahara to use this instance as another excuse for further lessons. "I need to get faster if I want to have a chance against the Nightbeasts. You didn't see the way they moved last night."

'Hm,' was all the answer Ichigo received, so he turned around again and went into the first stance once more. It could have been an agreement, or just an acknowledgement that the man had heard him. Or something else entirely. In any case, Urahara would extrapolate only in his own time. Patience was not one of Ichigo's virtues, so focusing on something else to keep his mind off the questions running rampant through his brain was probably a good idea. Questions like whether or not Urahara would be able to work out if Ichigo was Turning already with a blood test, or something a little more _interesting_. Not that he was willing to explain to the other man _why_ he was worried about it.

"Do not mistake speed for skill," Urahara spoke after having stood to one side studying him for several minutes. "Here, let me?"

Ichigo paused in his efforts, and watched Urahara slide Benihime's slender blade from her cunningly disguised sheath. With a flick of his wrist and a soft command of _Okiro_, Urahara transformed the sword from it's needle-like appearance to it's true form. The blade widened and elongated, the edge becoming slanted, but she was still tiny in comparison to Zangetsu. That was one trick Ichigo had yet to figure out, though he suspected that if he ever learned how to force Zangetsu into a more manageable size and shape he'd only miss the comforting weight of him. Though the process reminded him that he _still_ didn't know how or why Urahara even had a sword like that to begin with.

"Gonna spar with me, old man?" Ichigo grinned with anticipation. It had been weeks since he'd last had a good workout, and it was always fun to throw himself wholeheartedly into the fight.

"I want you to come at me in slow motion, and slowly build up the speed with me, instead of just charging in like you usually do," Urahara informed him, and settled his hat more firmly on his head. "If you become too wild we'll start again, and again, however many times it takes."

Disappointment spread through Ichigo at the idea, but he agreed, and took up his position. They looked at each other in an assessing way for a moment, then Urahara moved, and like he'd said it was slow, as though he was showing Ichigo how to move his arm, and wrist to make his sword flow through the air in a neat curve. Ichigo frowned, easily moving to counter. Several more blows were dealt and blocked, still in agonisingly slow motion, though they were becoming slightly faster with each attempt. The strain of keeping his body and mind in the game winded him faster than usual, without the build-up of adrenaline he was used to.

Time dragged by. Repetition gave Ichigo a feeling of being disconnected from reality, spaced out and floating in his own head as his muscles burned with fatigue. As they continued his leg became more and more of an issue until he growled with irritation and called an end to it.

Ichigo panted steadily, and brushed his hair back from a sweaty forehead.

"May I take a look at your leg?" Urahara asked, not altogether unaffected by their sparring. He'd thrown his hat to the side, and rolled his sleeves up at some point.

With a scowl as he released his sword back to wherever it went when he wasn't using it, Ichigo nodded. He'd put on loose trousers to practice in, so all he had to do was pull the material upward to reveal the wound just above his left knee. The bandage was still pristine, which surprised Ichigo with the way it had been throbbing. With careful, experienced fingers, Ichigo unwound the white cotton to give Urahara a good look at the healing bite mark.

The fangs had punctured his skin far deeper than the rest of the wolf's teeth. Purple bruising spread around the angry red of the torn flesh, but there was no real heat to it, nor any sign of infection. Urahara made a few oddball noises under his breath which could have been speech as he prodded at the jagged edges. Familiar with this strange method of talking to himself, Ichigo simply waited until Urahara straightened, then began rewinding the bandage.

"It looks to be healing just fine," Ichigo stated casually. The thought that he should use this as an excuse to ask his questions about whether or not there were early warning signs of the Change he could look, or test for, flashed through his mind, but Ichigo suppressed them. There was time yet before he needed to take that step. As much as he trusted Urahara, it was still risky to put those kinds of doubts into the man's head. There was no telling what he might do, or who he might let the information slip to.

"Would you like a cream to numb it a little?" Urahara asked quietly.

An upward glance showed the man had already replaced his hat, his sword once more hidden within the body of his walking stick. Ichigo shrugged. He could take it or leave it. The pain was not so bad that he couldn't walk, and it had blended in with the rest of his bodily aches for the time being. "I've gone home with worse."

"True," Urahara smiled faintly, but not like it was funny.

The undisguised worry in those grey eyes had Ichigo feeling guilty. He fixed his clothing and moved to place a hand on the older man's shoulder. "I think we need to use the showers, and then maybe have a cup of tea. Yuzu will be expecting me back home for dinner in a bit."

It was Urahara's turn to nod. Ichigo squeezed gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, then walked past on his way to the changing room at the back, which was near the stairs that led back up to the shop. Originally this space had been designed to be a large cellar, just as the shop had once been an inn, but Urahara had seen the potential for other things and taken advantage of it.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo stretched his arms over his head, and heard several of his joints pop. A satisfied grin stretched over his lips at the sound. There had been no attacks so far tonight, which pointed to the possibility that the wolves Starrk and his companion had killed last night were indeed the culprits Ichigo had thought they were. It boded well for Karakura Town.

Just three feet from the house, Ichigo was stopped by the sound of hurrying feet. He turned to see a small, dark haired woman running toward him from the direction of the town gates. She was dressed all in black, her robes flung out behind her by her speedy passage.

One eyebrow raised, Ichigo waited for her to meet him, and relearn how to breathe.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," she finally managed, her voice deeper than one might expect from one so small. "I heard about Inoue Orihime's attack, is she all right?"

"Ah, Rukia. Yeah, she's fine," Ichigo let her know with a grin. "You back for a while, or is this just a quick visit?"

"I have been stationed here until the current infestation is eradicated, and those who undergo the Change have been dealt with," Rukia stated it as though they weren't people. As though they were just some sort of science experiment she was in charge of. The sound of her confident, uncaring voice sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. Orihime was human, her friend, and Rukia was calmly saying she was prepared to kill the woman without a second thought should she Turn. It reaffirmed his reasoning behind not telling her – or anyone else – about his own problem. She'd betray him as easily as she'd kill him.

Even though his conscience told him he should tell her everything, for the protection of his family and friends, he didn't want to die. There had to be another way to do this. He had no idea what, but that had to be . Ichigo managed not to grit his teeth in frustration, but only just. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

Rukia shook her head, her eyes wide with surprise at his tone, "I was hoping I could stay with you again."

With a sigh Ichigo stet off for the back door. "Then you're introducing yourself to my family this time, and staying in the guest room. I refuse to let you sleep in the closet. You snore."

"Oh, okay, Ichigo," Rukia hurriedly agreed as she jogged after him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me, sadly.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi m/m scenes of an explicit nature.**

**Summary:** Ulquiorra wakes to find that Grimmjow spent the day worrying about his mental health, while back in Karakura Town Ichigo continues to weigh his choices.

**A/N:** So far I've managed to keep up with posting one chapter every week (now watch me miss the deadline next week 'cause I'm about to jinx myself), and I'm going to be aiming for that from now on. Wednesday every week there should be a new chapter up, unless I'm too sick to write, or the plot bunnies commit suicide (which they are prone to do, sadly. Makes me wonder if they're part lemming?). Fingers crossed and all that. ^_^

I'd also like to apologise to those on fanfiction[dot]net for the gaps and typos that haven't been fixed in earlier chapters. I'm not sure how to go about editing a published chapter without replacing the entirety, and I'm not sure how that works for those of you subscribed to author alerts and the like.

And last, but not least; this chapter has some of the smut you've been warned about... I'm not liking how it turned out, but I do hope you enjoy it anyway!

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The sun had just about set when Ulquiorra opened his eyes to utter darkness. He didn't move right away, choosing instead to let his senses reach outward, searching for Grimmjow's whereabouts, and checking that everything was in order. After a few moments he heard the sound of fabric shifting against fabric, and deduced that the werepanther was in the main room on the sofa, probably napping. The thought made him feel a little guilty. It was Ulquiorra's fault Grimmjow had avoided their bed, his reactions and insecurities that had hurt the outwardly tough man. Anyone who truly knew Grimmjow well would understood he was surprisingly easy to wound on an emotional level.

But it wasn't as though Ulquiorra had been in any shape to worry about it the night before. Between the unexpected reaction he'd had toward the new Reaper, and mention of Aizen, he'd been lost, and confused. He'd been looking at that strange new Reaper and he'd _wanted_ him. This shouldn't have been happening, not again. Not when the wounds from Aizen's betrayal still ached and threatened to burst open so easily. It might take another century at the rate he was healing to forget how much he had believed in the ex-Reaper. Trusted him. Been devoted to the man like the god he'd struggled to become.

Thrusting such thoughts from his mind as best he could, Ulquiorra released his claws from the stone at his feet, quickly flipping to land in a crouch on the plush rug that took up most of the – otherwise empty – floorspace. The motion was familiar and smooth, executed with a finesse which belied the fact he usually spent his days in the huge bed he now faced in the pitch-black darkness surrounding him.

There was no need to light a candle, he knew this room – and indeed the entire residence – well enough to navigate sound-blind. But he didn't need to go without; his resurrección allowed his bat-like sonar to pick up the echoes of his breathing and view the room as a series of colourless impressions. Grimmjow told him he could do something similar with scent, but it was not quite as detailed. Though their distastefully human traits preferred the aesthetics of lighting and comfort, such things weren't _necessary._

Ulquiorra turned from the mass which was the bed, then headed for the uniform distortion in the walls that was the door, and made his way toward the bathing room. Spending so many hours gripping onto cool stone had done nothing to help his naturally low body temperature, despite the added warmth afforded him by his wings. What he wanted right then was substantial heat to loosen his joints and soothe the aches he generally didn't notice after a day wrapped in Grimmjow's arms.

Perhaps he had grown soft? The act of sleeping with another was familiar enough that he'd become accustomed to it, maybe even – he let himself contemplate – dependant upon Grimmjow's proximity for relief from an issue he'd once taken in stride. Truthfully there had been a time when he'd hardly noticed the chill in his bones, or simply ignored it. How long ago had that been? Surely before they'd moved to the area surrounding Karakura Town, certainly before the vast majority of sentient Hollows had been murdered by those bothersome Reapers.

The cool flagstones underfoot signalled his arrival in the desired room. Ulquiorra stepped closer to the large tub and reached for the taps. Indoor plumbing was one of those bonuses he was loath to admit to most days, but there was no doubt that humanity had it's uses. On occasion. Other than as a source of nutrients far superior to that of mindless animals, of course. Assuming they didn't binge too regularly on foods high in fat or sugars. These modern times did not lend themselves to satisfying meals, not like centuries past when the upper classes gorged on good food, and better wines, until they became bloated and ripe for the drinking. Then again, they hadn't been overly healthy back then, either. The unfortunate had survived on poor diets of little meat and only slightly higher counts of vegetables, with the sporadic inclusion of fruit. The wealthier men and women of high society had been greedy, without the knowledge of how bad it was to consume excessive quantities of grease, and alcohol.

Plenty of fruit and vegetables made for richer, healthier, _tastier_ blood. Too bad Grimmjow would disapprove of collecting a specimen they could retain in their care, under their control, just to feed Ulquiorra's preferences. They might have been able to train them for domestic chores, or something else as rudimentary. Szayel could already have a likely candidate lazing around his lab somewhere.

Ulquiorra sighed quietly to himself. It would never work. One day would be all it would take before the hapless mortal was killed accidentally, by either himself or Grimmjow. That man was not well known for his tenderness when it came to fragile items. Neither of them were predisposed for that nurturing instinct that Starrk showed toward Lilynette, unless you counted their tolerance for Nel.

Amused by his own musings, Ulquiorra held a hand out under the flow of water, testing the temperature. Satisfied when he found that the heat was almost scalding, he stripped before moving into the spray after a momentary pause to relinquish his resurrección.

The water drowned out the sound of footsteps approaching, however the sudden appearance of light and shadows – as Grimmjow entered the room with a lit candle – drew the vampire's attention. Impassive eyes the colour of late-spring grass swivelled to observe the other's behaviour, admiring the way the light enhanced the visual beauty of that muscular body. Who needed a pet human when they had their very own live-in werepanther?

Grimmjow set the candle holder down on the counter by the sink where it would not be in danger of setting the room on fire should they forget about it. It had happened often enough in their early days together for it to have become second-nature to them now. Szayel had offered to install solar panels for electric lighting, but Ulquiorra didn't see any pressing need to change a habit of a lifetime simply because the technology existed. That and it would be hard to make the panels effective while hiding them from the outside world – for otherwise they risked giving away their location. Which would effectively call an end to this home's usefulness.

Eyeing the werepanter with quiet interest, Ulquiorra absently reached for the bottle of shampoo. The water was hot enough to cause the room to slowly became cloudy with steam. There was no point in wasting the heat of the water while he watched his long time lover hurriedly strip.

"Ya could'a just said somethin', ya know, like last night," Grimmjow informed him grumpily, but Ulquiorra could hear the thread of barely camouflaged lust hiding in the seemingly irritated voice, "Before ya decided ta fly off inta th' night ta brood an' shit."

Ulquiorra said nothing while he listened, his hands squeezed out the appropriate amount of product into his palm so he could begin to lather it into his long hair. "Eloquent, as usual I see," he retorted with the slightest upward turn to the corner of his lip. Maybe his voice was not as dispassionate as he would have preferred, had there been anyone else around to hear him, but he was comfortable enough in his relationship with the other man to show this minor weakness.

It was safe to be emotional around Grimmjow.

"Ya know what I mean," Grimmjow muttered. There was silence as the pair of them moved around one another to accommodate Grimmjow's addition to the shower. Luckily Ulquiorra had had the foresight to request a larger than usual shower head so as to make this task easier. The same as the face tub it was positioned over was big enough for five grown men. For an animal that was supposed to detest water Grimmjow spent an inordinate amount of time in it, and he frequently liked to have company.

"I was not in the mood to talk about it, Grimmjow," he informed the man evenly.

Grimmjow growled low in his throat, the sound strangely comforting. "Ya were stuck up there all fuckin' day! Th' water's so fuckin' hot tha' if I din't heal as fast as I do I'd've second degree burns already." Apparently annoyed with the way Ulquiorra was washing his hair, Grimmjow knocked his hands out of the way, repositioned him for better access, and took over massaging his scalp. There was plenty of nail involved too. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and relaxed into the contact.

"I apologise if my actions have caused you undue stress Grimmjow," he finally relented. "That was not my intention."

"Yeah, well ya gonna make it up ta me," Grimmjow leaned closer so that Ulquiorra could feel his chest rumble with the words through the press of skin along his back. There was an eagerness in that tone which was sinfully suggestive.

Ulquiorra shivered in anticipation. "As you wish."

There was a chuckle from Grimmjow, and the blunt nails scratching wonderfully against his scalp trailed down the back of his head to this shoulders, before following the line of his spine all the way to his ass. Ulquiorra tilted his shoulders forward slightly, while thrusting his hips backward in appreciation. The pleasant sting of slightly-grazed skin arched his back with the barest parting of his lips. That felt so good. If this was punishment, or a reward for Grimmjow tolerating Ulquiorra's recent moodiness, Ulquiorra decided it was more than worth it. After all, it would provide both of them with a reprieve from things they'd rather not think about.

Either way Grimmjow was a skilled, attentive lover who always left Ulquiorra amazed that the affectionate man would be content to commit himself so loyally to an emotionally repressed vampire. The werepanther was so full of life that he radiated energy much in the same way a light bulb gave off excess heat. It was as though there was not enough space within the man to hold it all inside, so it leaked out to brush against Ulquiorra's coldness with an incredible warmth. One Ulquiorra had no intention of ever relinquishing.

"If the water makes you uncomfortable you are free to adjust the temperature," Ulquiorra offered softly. If there was hitch to his breathing due to Grimmjow's proximity he chose to ignore it, opting instead to arch once more against the rough fingertips that were dragged up his back over the scratches that had faded in intensity already. A sound that was close to being a moan escaped him as he shifted in his quest for more.

"Hm, I think I'll leave it be fer now," Grimmjow purred into his ear. Then he moved to gently rinse the residue of the shampoo from Ulquiorra's hair, being mindful of the other's eyes as he coaxed Ulquiorra into an upright position.

Ulquiorra melted into the caress of those callused hands, more than willing to allow his lover to lead them in this well choreographed dance of theirs. As though he'd been waiting for that moment of utter submission, Grimmjow chased the water down to Ulquiorra's shoulders, and began to lightly knead the muscles there, and around the base of his neck.

Desire coiled through Ulquiorra's lower stomach, mingled with the Thirst he'd ignored so far this evening. The combination was warm and insistent, but faint still. A slow burn that could erupt with little more than a word, or a glance, as they'd discovered many times in the past, however Ulquiorra had a feeling this was not going to become one of those frantic couplings between them. Grimmjow wanted to remind him that they had vowed to be there for one another, which his solitary slumber had apparently called into question.

While he'd been lost in thought the werepanther had found the liquid soap. Slick hands smoothed over Ulquiorra's skin. The scent of vanilla and ginger rose on the steam. Ulquiorra inhaled deeply, loving the way the sweetness of the vanilla mingled with the spicy heat of the ginger. It had been a gift, this soap, made especially for Ulquiorra by Szayel, on a request from Grimmjow. In a way it was as though the man was marking him as his.

Ulquiorra leaned back against Grimmjow's body as he felt those fingers inching around his sides toward his chest. His head came to rest on a broad shoulder, the vampire's eyes still closed, he let his mind drift where it would. Which mostly fixated on the wonderful glide of skin on skin, accompanied by a rumbling purr that was so low as to be felt more than heard.

Methodically Grimmjow washed Ulquiorra's body, he paused here and there when he came across sensitive areas, then carried on. After an ageless time Ulquiorra pulled away and turned to face him, his limbs feeling swollen with need. A single eyebrow rose in question as green eyes met blue, "You seem to have missed a bit," the vampire teased straight-faced.

"Really?" Grimmjow rejoined with manic-glee tinted teasing. "Did ya mean this?" Soapy hands flowed over the slender curve of Ulquiorra's ass, and dipped between his cheeks to allow a single finger to circle his entrance.

"Two places, then," Ulquiorra corrected, a false frown in place. "I must say I'm disappointed in your lack of accomplishment in this area."

"Oh-ho! Is'at so?" Grimmjow grinned back, his teeth bared in challenge. "Do I need ta show ya just how _accomplished_ I am?"

There was no waiting for an answer, Grimmjow simply lifted Ulquiorra out of the tub, turned the water off and climbed out after him. A large towel was wrapped around his head and shoulders. It was large enough to hit the backs of his knees, and covered almost as much of him as his wings would have. The pampering was enjoyable, so he stood still and allowed Grimmjow to dry them both off without a word of complaint. Not one to welcome being manhandled for too long however, Ulquiorra made his own way to their room, pausing only long enough to collect the candle holder.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The day had dragged on once Nel had scurried off to pick on Nnoitora, leaving Grimmjow nothing to do but think about the vampire. Next time Starrk stuck his fury wolf-paw in his big, fat mouth, Grimmjow was going to make him regret it. Shit, if Ulquiorra hadn't snapped out of the funk he'd been in as soon as he had, the wolf might have found Grimmjow's temper incapable of waiting even that long.

Only now that Ulquiorra was headed into their bedroom – with a sway to his slender hips Grimmjow recognised only too well – was he able to calm down, and push the need for revenge aside in favour of other needs entirely. The day-long mental argument with himself faded slightly under the green gaze that peered at him seductively through a curtain of damp black hair.

The candlestick was put to one side just moments before Grimmjow pounced. The palms of his hands skimmed over narrow hips, fingers digging in slightly as he tugged that slender body back against him so that he could bury his nose in the crook of Ulquiorra's neck.

"Been too long," Grimmjow growled with a rotation of his hips that pressed their lower bodies more firmly together.

Ulquiorra shivered in his arms, then gave a soft sigh that almost turned into a moan. "I seem to recall you telling me the same thing last night," the vampire reminded him, then pulled away with a gentle touch to Grimmjow's arm.

The panther turned to track the other's movement.

"Tease," Grimmjow accused with a feral smile as blue eyes followed the sight of Ulquiorra's retreat toward the bed. It was becoming apparent that Ulquiorra was in a playful mood tonight, be it because he was intentionally distracting himself from thoughts of the past, or as a result of Grimmjow's attempt to 'help' in the shower, he didn't know, but the results were arousing. The pale, slim form was now kneeling on the end of their bed, green eyes shadowed by long hair as Ulquiorra twisted his head around and sucked suggestively on two long fingers. The angle meant that they could watch each other, while Grimmjow had an excellent view of that pert little ass.

The need to move forward and take his lover warred with the desire to simply watch the show. Grimmjow growled, the sound vibrating through his chest in a comfortable rumble. Ulquiorra's eyes closed in response, moaning around his fingers, throat working. Grimmjow licked dry lips as those fingers then moved out of sight for a moment, only to reappear between parted legs, a lone, glistening digit playing briefly over his entrance. Green eyes gleamed as Ulquiorra once more looked over his shoulder, meeting Grimmjow's eager gaze before roughly pushing both fingers into himself with a louder moan of pleasure.

Grimmjow inhaled sharply. Damned bastard was trying to fucking kill him, or maybe he wanted Grimmjow to stop looking at him like the delectable vision of wanton lust he was, and get on with reaffirming their connection.

"Damn but ya asking for it, lookin' like that," Grimmjow warned, voice thick with need. Graceful, steady footsteps took Grimmjow across the room to stand behind Ulquiorra, blue eyes trained on those thrusting fingers. It had been a long time since he'd last indulged himself in one of his favourite acts of foreplay, but having been a spectator for several minutes, he was not about to deny himself any longer. His knees hit the rug without a sound to betray him as he leaned forward to run the flat of his tongue over the sensitive area Ulquiorra was still stretching for both their benefits. The scent of Ulquiorra's body was a heady mixture of male musk and something strangely sweet like vanilla. And that was before you added that fucking fantastic soap to the mix. Grimmjow traced over the point where pearly white fingers met Ulquiorra's entrance, ears strained to catch every tiny gasp of pleasure his lover could no longer withhold.

All the emotion usually shoved behind the unrivalled mental barriers Ulquiorra threw up, between himself and the rest of the world, seemed to escape in a barrage of low cries and whimpers. Still, those fingers never ceased moving, and Grimmjow slowly added his tongue alongside of them, loving the feel of Ulquiorra clenching sporadically around them both. This was something he had to start finding the time to enjoy again. Recently there had been little in the way of foreplay between them, but they both appreciated it too much to allow that lazy trait to continue. That in mind, Grimmjow gave one last, lingering lick, and reared up while he simultaneously flipped Ulquiorra over, unsurprised that the vampire's reflexes kicked in so that he had his legs around the backs of Grimmjow's legs, his fingers still buried deep inside his own body by the time he hit the mattress.

There were certain advantages to having a preternatural lover, after all.

Grimmjow leered down at Ulquiorra. That perfect, pale body was arched provocatively on the bed, his cock swollen as it bounced lewdly on a fluttering, toned stomach with every twitch of narrow hips, one arm stretched down the length of his torso, and moving languidly between his legs. Dark locks of silken hair splayed over their cream bedspread like an oil stain. Eyes the colour of fresh grass reflected weak candlelight like a cat's, giving the impression that they were glowing with need in the dimness. As he watched, Ulquiorra's Hollow markings appeared, forming twin green lines down his face from his eyes like tear tracks.

With a possessive growl Grimmjow leaned forward with one hand on the bed beside Ulquiorra to seal their mouths together in a searing kiss. It was just too much for him – even after all this time – to see Ulquiorra lose the last piece of his control. Tongues battled for dominance, but there was no real question as to who would win. Ulquiorra enjoyed being topped too much to really fight his own submission, and they were both far too out of practice to make this last.

Grimmjow ran a hand down Ulquiorra's side, to hold and squeeze his hip in promise as he pulled back from kiss-bruised lips. "Too fuckin' sexy fer ya own good," he informed the other to the harsh sound of panting whines. "I need ya right now."

It was both a statement of fact, and a warning that he had no intention of moving to hunt down the bottle of lubricant they kept under to the bed. It was probably closer to the headboard anyway, which was too far away in Grimmjow's mind. The urgency singing in his veins demanded he take his lover without delay, and creature of instinct he was, Grimmjow stood with a dexterity that utilised every last iota of muscle control his human body held. Ulquiorra closed his eyes momentarily with the barest nod of acknowledgement, hand moving out of the way as Grimmjow's grip on his hip shifted, then they were staring at each other as Grimmjow positioned himself at Ulquiorra's entrance.

"Grimm," Ulquiorra's voice was raspy with need, his mouth open enough to flash elongated fangs as vice-like, clawed hands gripped desperately at Grimmjow's broad shoulders. "I need you inside me. Please!"

The plea broke through what remained of Grimmjow's restraint. With a roar that would have been more at home in his natural form, Grimmjow jerked his hips forward, and sank smoothly into Ulquiorra's tight heat. They moaned in unison, bodies meeting in a jolt of pleasure that had Grimmjow gritting his teeth. Ulquiorra bucked upward, heels digging into the backs of Grimmjow's thighs in an impatient attempt to get him moving again.

An indrawn breath to steady himself was Grimmjow's one concession to his own weakness, then he was withdrawing only to slam home once more, this time hitting the other's prostate with an unerring accuracy. Hard. Ulquiorra mewled, neck arched and head thrown back as his nails tore open the skin under them. The pain and blood-scent sparked a feral growl from the panther, who immediately responded with repetitive, forceful thrusts of his hips. They rocked together at ever increasing speeds, until Grimmjow had to move so he could kneel on the bed, hands firmly holding Ulquiorra in place as he found a rhythm that pitched them both too fast toward the edge of reason.

Just as they hit the last hurdle toward that goal, the pleasure so intense Grimmjow couldn't have strung a coherent thought together if his life depended on it, Ulquiorra's back lifted off the mattress, one hand finding and fisting in Grimmjow's hair until his touch brought tears to unfocused blue eyes. There was a hiss, and Grimmjow wasn't sure which one of them had made it, but it no longer mattered as razor-like fangs pierced his throat. It started a chain reaction that instantly had Grimmjow reaching for Ulquiorra's neglected cock, hand stroking frantically to make sure the other came first, and at the first pulse Grimmjow released with a gurgled cry.

If they'd been human, it would have ended there, but they weren't, and for every suck Ulquiorra took in his feeding their bodies were besieged with spasms, only to release over and again, until at last they collapsed to the bed. Exhausted. The twitching took an age to pass. Grimmjow was the first to recover, having donated to his vampire lover regularly enough over the centuries to barely be dazed by the blood loss. That and his ability to heal almost anything in a matter of minutes meant that he recovered quickly from most things. He pulled out with care, moved them further up the bed, and tucked Ulquiorra's head under his chin as he wrapped trembling arms around the smaller man.

"I apologise," Ulquiorra finally murmured, his voice hoarse from its recent activities.

"Ya better not be apologisin' 'bout th' best damned sex we've 'ad in forever," Grimmjow ground out through his teeth.

Ulquiorra laughed, the sound so unfamiliar that Grimmjow jerked his head back to look at the expression that went with it. The vampire was smiling faintly, his eyes bouncing with mirth. How long had it been since Grimmjow'd had the utter pleasure of seeing him like this? He couldn't remember, and the tightness in his chest only made the moment all the more precious.

"No, I was apologising for pushing you away this morning," he assured quietly.

"Honey, ya put out like this more often I'll fix a rail ta th' fuckin' ceiling," Grimmjow responded, only half joking. Besides, just because there might be something more comfortable to cling to than jagged rock, it didn't mean Grimmjow had any intention of allowing his lover to leave the other side of their bed permanently empty.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo swallowed the contents of the vial Urahara Kisuke had given him earlier in the evening, grimacing at the taste. Why was it that every medicine that was supposed to be good for you tasted and smelled like something you'd scooped out of a cesspit? A scowl fixed on his face, Ichigo dropped the empty container into the bin by his desk, and pulled a large leather-bound tome toward himself. It was one he'd borrowed from Urahara just after he'd learned of the Reaper's existence. It described several races of Nightbeasts, and made vague mention of their mortal enemies, who were never actually named. The details weren't all that helpful, for the most part, but he wanted to check again through the largest section which was all about werewolves. They were the most prolific Nightbeast race, and more was known about them than any other creature, most likely as a direct result of the number of casualties they'd been responsible for. It was more likely for a werewolf victim to Turn, than to die from the venom, unlike the other species, who mostly poisoned theirs to death.

Almost absently rubbing at the bite on his leg through his trousers, Ichigo reread the entire section on the Change itself. There was nothing which even hinted at erotic dreams, though there was more than one account of nightmares filled with blood and pain. Though he couldn't be sure whether he'd been human or animal during his own experience, something told him he'd not been dreaming about tearing into the entrails of the werepanter, or vice versa. Which left him with something of a quandary. Ichigo could bring the subject up with Urahara, using his fears for Orihime's health as an excuse – and the shopkeeper might even believe him – to get more research material on the subject, or he could wait and see if the experience was repeated. It could just have been his over-active imagination, combining with needs he'd been neglecting too often recently in favour of other pursuits.

With a sigh, Ichigo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Rukia was still downstairs with the twins, the three of them having hit it off very quickly. Ichigo had escaped to his room as soon as he could manage it without seeming too rude. He didn't want to be in the same room as the Reaper right now, not when all he could think about in her presence was her earlier statement about killing everyone to undergo the Change come the next full moon.

Ichigo stretched until his joints popped, and scratched at the back of his head. It was too early to go to bed, unless he wanted to be up before the sun rose, and he didn't want to join in with the others downstairs. There was nothing new to learn from the book in front of him, as he'd read it through more than once in the past three months. Which left him wondering what to do now.

A feeling of being watched suddenly shot down his spine as he leaned back in the chair. He turned to look at the shuttered window, a frown forming once more between his eyebrows. Who or what could be watching him through those tiny gaps? They'd have to be able to fly...

The memory of the vampire in his beast-form flashed through his mind, and Ichigo was instantly on his feet, leaning over the bed to press his eye to the glass. Moonlight gleamed over the darkened town, slightly brighter than last night. Brown eyes curiously searched through the shadows, struggling to see if there really was some supernatural demon out there, spying on him. Nothing moved, and there was no discernible reiatsu, but Ichigo couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone there. Waiting in the darkness. He turned from the window, his gaze on the locked bedroom door.

Ichigo's internal debate over whether or not to go out there to check it out for himself was interrupted when there was the lightest of scratches on the glass. He blinked, eyes refocusing with effort only to find that the shutters had been pried open, revealing the upside-down image of long crooked horns, and a tear-streaked white face with a cloud of black hair surrounding it.

Hands shaking with nerves, Ichigo hesitantly unlocked the window. Last night this creature had done nothing to hurt him, and had shown himself to be quite intelligent, which went against everything Ichigo had been told. In fact, none of the Nightbeasts he'd encountered last night had been anything like Ichigo was expecting. The weaker ones were just as stupid and vicious as Rukia and Renji had warned him, but not these more powerful creatures. It was as though they'd somehow retained their human intellect, or maybe with age and strength came reason? He just didn't know.

The window swung outward as the vampire disappeared from view to allow the movement, then Ulquiorra reappeared on the ledge, his taloned feet curled over the lip, wings draped over his crouched figure like a cloak. The strange horns scraped softly against the wooden window frame as green eyes thoughtfully examined the Hunter.

"What do you want?" Ichigo found himself whispering the words, his knees braced on his bed as he stared at the vampire.

"Are you afraid to invite me in?"

There was a long moment of silence, then Ichigo sighed with a swift shake of his head. "That actually works, the invitation, I mean?"

"It does not," and as though to prove it, the vampire stepped forward, his monstrous form falling away to leave a man behind. The same dark-haired, pale-skinned man Ichigo had seen him become the night before. "I was simply asking for the courtesy to be extended."

"Why are you here, now?" Ichigo asked as he slid backward off the bed, and reached behind him for the desk chair. If his eyes kept darting over the other's body – to examine the strange clothing which had appeared out of nowhere when the vampire switched forms – he chose to ignore it. "You and that werepanther let me go."

"You were never ours to keep, Kurosaki Ichigo," Ulquiorra informed him flatly. "However Grimmjow extended you an exclusive invitation of sorts, which makes you part of a very small clan. My clan."

Ichigo shook his head frantically, "I might not Change!"

"Is that what you think? That there is a question of your eligibility to join us?" Ulquiorra tilted his head to one side for all the world like a giant bird trying to determine whether the creature before him was prey or not. Even the look in his eyes was alien in its lack of any emotion Ichigo could name. "We are not waiting for you to Change; you will never be one of Starrk's wolves, Hunter."

The flash of fear which tore through him at those words far surpassed anything he'd ever felt before. It completely shattered his fascination with the whole magically appearing clothes thing. Never be a wolf? The bastard was toying with him, he had to be! "How could you possibly know that?" Ichigo demanded with a low snarl.

Ulquiorra moved so fast Ichigo never saw it. One moment he was balanced on the bed, one hand raised to steady himself against the window, and the next the vampire had a hand wrapped around the back of Ichigo's neck, holding his head still for that dark head to dip down toward the vulnerable skin. Ichigo's heart leapt into his throat, pulse pounding steadily with a disturbing kind of excitement at the other's closeness. A brief struggle convinced him Ulquiorra wasn't going to remove the stone-like grip, and he closed his eyes. The expected bite never came, however, leaving Ichigo confused as Ulquiorra inhaled deeply.

"A..are you _sniffing_ me?"

Green eyes met brown, an all too recognisable emotion now burning in those mossy-green depths. Hunger, he was sure of it. If Ulquiorra wanted him, then why hadn't he bitten him? "I don't know what you are, Kurosaki Ichigo, but you are most certainly not entirely human, and there is no wolf in your scent."

"You lie," Ichigo spat out, but even as he said it he knew it wasn't true. The blood drained out of Ichigo's face, leaving him with a light headed feeling, and a rushing in his ears that sounded like the river in early spring when the run-off from the mountains overflowed its banks. This was what he'd been fearing ever since he'd learned he could call a zanpakuto of his own, just like a Reaper, though he couldn't control its size or shape. Not quite human, but not a Reaper, either. Could he be something else, perhaps?

"Someone has deliberately kept you in the dark," Ulquiorra stated not unkindly, as though he could read Ichigo's mind, and would offer him solace.

"You say you don't know what I am, but you insist I'm one of you," Ichigo pointed out, trying to find the flaw in the vampire's reasoning.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, and stepped back so that there was breathing space between them once more. It gave Ichigo an unnerving view of elongated fangs as the man spoke, "It cannot be undone, unless I would deny Grimmjow this desire. He asks so little of me."

A knock at the door spun Ichigo toward it before he could ask Ulquiorra to elaborate. There was no chance to say anything before there was the sound of the handle rattling and Rukia's muffled voice; "Are you all right, Ichigo?"

It was hard to swallow, but he somehow managed to squeak out a strangled yes, his eyes widening when he glanced around to find himself alone in his room once more. Disappointment struck unexpectedly, and he sank into the chair before his unsteady legs could betray him. What was wrong with him? Why did he resent the Reaper outside his door, even as he wished the vampire had not abandoned him so abruptly?

It didn't occur to him until much later that he'd never once thought to summon Zangestu in order to defend himself.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ulquiorra made his way silently from rooftop to rooftop on his way back to the forest. Flying so close to the human settlement would have been an unacceptable risk, especially with the Reapers back from Seireitei. Ichigo was harbouring one of them, and another was searching the other side of Karakura Town. Neither was very powerful on their own, but past experience warned that they were like locusts; where you found one, there were bound to be more nearby. They didn't need to be strong, only numerous enough to overwhelm him. True death was a finality even he could not avoid.

The cool, familiar shadows of the trees welcomed him as Ulquiorra reached their safety. Just two steps beyond sight of the town itself he was halted by a disembodied voice.

"Ya smelt it, din't ya?" Grimmjow stated it like fact, obviously convinced of this.

"Indeed."

"He's not just gonna come ta us, it'll take them lot fuckin' it up ta send him surryin' off inta th' night," Grimmjow continued, to which Ulquiorra could only nod. Kurosaki Ichigo was attracted to the darkness as they were, but he was not going to give in until he had no choice. Unfortunately it would surely come down to it, for the Reapers were not known for their kindness, or understanding of things they didn't understand. To be different was to be a threat, and any threat must be eliminated.

"We can hope it does not come to that," Ulquiorra murmured softly, his words distorted by the length of his fangs. Ichigo had smelt divine, and had felt perfect in his embrace. He'd told the young man that he would not deny Grimmjow's request to have the would-be Reaper join their tiny clan, but just that one brief moment had been enough to make it Ulquiorra's wish, too.

Then Grimmjow interrupted his thoughts with another warning, "Whatever he is, he's not gonna be able ta hide from himself, or them fer much longer."

How incredibly depressing that Ulquiorra agreed with that statement.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me, sadly.

**Warnings: **Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi [m/m] scenes of an explicit nature.

**Summary:** Ichigo has another disturbing dream which leads to more questions, and finds himself being drawn further toward the 'dark side' [Star Wars humour... man, I'm getting cornier with every chapter, and apparently flashing you all my dorky side ^_~].

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

_Eyes the colour of October skies filled the entire world. They should have been cold, those eyes, but they burned like liquid fire. Heat poured from them to fill Ichigo's body, his heart aching in his chest as he reached out with both hands to grasp their owner... _

_...To pull him closer._

_Only those blue eyes blinked closed, and darkness reigned in their stead for what seemed like hours. Ichigo felt the lack of warmth fiercely, and hugged his arms around himself as he fought the urge to run. To hide from the creatures who stalked the realm of nightmares._

_Squinting against the dark, as though by sheer will alone he could force his vision to pierce the gloom, Ichigo suddenly became aware of someone else. Another pair of eyes as strangely welcome as the first. Green this time, the colour of freshly-watered summer grass. Bright green to lighten the weight on his heart._

_Eyes to hold him steady. To comfort him in his hour of need. Eyes that felt like home._

Sunlight struck Ichigo full in the face until he managed to turn his head to the side and escape it. Awareness of reality, of the fact he was in his room – and not lost in darkness with only the two Nightbeasts for company – was slow to filter through the fogginess of sleep-heavy thoughts. Once it did he clamped a hand over his eyes with a low groan. Another god-damned weird dream wasn't exactly a good omen.

Restless he pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the family bathroom. It was early enough that Yuzu wasn't even up yet, so he was hopeful that he'd be able to avoid Rukia for another few hours. Given time he'd be back to normal, and she'd never guess he wasn't himself. That he was thinking about those Nightbeasts not as _friends_ exactly, but maybe acquaintances. Certainly they were not the enemy, or at least not_ his_ enemies. He'd believed Ulquiorra was speaking the truth about not Turning, hadn't he?

All of that was too confusing to really make any sense out of it, so Ichigo pushed it to one side for the moment. There was still Orihime to worry about, and he had to keep an eye on Rukia to make sure she didn't get twitchy ahead of the full moon. Then there was his usual job, and the Hunter tasks he'd taken upon himself, not to mention the extra training he'd just started with Urahara. Plenty to keep him occupied so he didn't have to think about why he was dreaming of those two creatures like a lovesick teenager.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Grimmjow opened his eyes to the darkness of the bedroom. Just by the way his head felt full of cotton wool he knew he'd not been sleeping for long. It took an intense moment of listening to the pounding of his own heartbeat to realise there was nothing wrong. Their den was empty except for them, and Ulquiorra was a warm body curled against him. Dead to the world at this time of the day.

Frowning to himself, Grimmjow tightened his grip around his vampire lover, nuzzling closer as he attempted to find that escape into dreamland once more. Ulquiorra's scent steadied him, lulled him into a semi-conscious state, but he didn't drift back off again. An hour or so of this finally convinced him that whatever had drawn him awake in the first place was not about to let go of him, so Grimmjow stopped trying to force it.

Drawing himself out of the nest of blankets and Ulquiorra's vice-like embrace, Grimmjow headed for the shower to wake himself up properly.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo yawned as he poured his first cup of coffee from the fresh pot, and sat down at the table. It was too early to disturb Orihime, or any of the other patients for that matter. He curled an arm around the cup where it rested on the hard wood, and let his head fall forward so the pleasant steam wafting from the hot beverage filled his senses.

Not thinking should have been easy, but Ichigo couldn't shake the remnants of his dream. As soon as he started to relax it was back again, teasing and tormenting him. Yesterdays had been more vague, and as far as he knew only Grimmjow had been involved. Had Ulquiorra's visit changed that, maybe adding ideas to his imagination, or was it simply part of whatever the heck was wrong with him?

"I don't know what the cup's done to warrant that look, but I think it's learnt it's lesson, Ichi," Karin informed him suddenly. If his hearing hadn't caught the soft tread of feet on the stairs he'd have been shocked by her abrupt appearance. Her idea humour was one that either grew on you like mould, or left you feeling slighted. Ichigo glanced up at her with a falsely sour expression that refused to stay put in face of her petulant frown.

Ichigo shook his head with a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth, "Good morning to you, too, Karin. I haven't seen Yuzu yet," he added, mostly from curiosity.

"Yeah, she hogged the shower so I thought I'd steal her kitchen, but it looks like you beat me to it," she shrugged casually. He watched as his sister checked the pot, then reached up into the cupboard, and took down a cup to pour herself some coffee. Karin's unbound black hair swished around her shoulders, and Ichigo noticed she was due for another haircut unless she was trying to veer away from her usual tomboyish appearance.

"I didn't make breakfast, or anything," Ichigo pointed out, and took a sip of his own coffee. It wasn't as good as Yuzu's, but he couldn't figure out what she did to make good coffee great. There had to be a trick to it, because really how hard was it to scoop the ground beans into the machine and add water?

There was a slight shuffling sound then, and the siblings turned to see Rukia standing in the doorway. The young Reaper was as neatly arranged as she always had been, but her wide, violet gaze darted back and forth between Ichigo and Karin as though she was unsure of what to do or say.

"I think I'll just go and check the front desk – make sure we don't have anybody waiting or anything," Karin said with a slight shadowing to her storm-cloud-grey eyes. "Good morning, Rukia."

"Oh, good morning, Karin," Rukia seemed to pull herself together with a little effort, almost standing at attention as she acknowledged the greeting with an enthusiastic smile.

Ichigo sighed as he watched his sister leave, knowing her intuitive side had picked up on Rukia's obvious desire to have a private conversation with him. Karin wouldn't be gone too long, though; she was too suspicious by nature to abandon him entirely.

Once he was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to look expectantly at the Reaper. Rukia shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes worried, then her spine straightened as she met his gaze head-on.

"Have I done something to offend you, Ichigo?" The formality in her tone washed over him painfully. They were supposed to be friends, but it didn't feel like it right now.

"I don't know, Rukia. You talk about killing Inoue like it's nothing, and I'm supposed to just be okay with it, am I?" Ichigo knew he was being confrontational in the way he spoke, in the clenching of his jaw. By the expression on Rukia's face he was being rude, too. As if he cared. It had taken her oh-so-innocent question to realise he was angry with her. Not just shocked by her cold disregard for human life, but with her superiority complex.

"She'll probably be fine," Rukia instantly defended herself, which only made her guilt more obvious to Ichigo. She'd thought about this, knew that Ichigo would be upset about the possibility that Orihime might Turn in a few days. To pretend that it was simply a case of believing in the full recovery of their friend – and not an irrational hatred for all Nightbeasts – which allowed her to be so callus was simply outrageous.

It didn't make it right. They were people, dammit. Ichigo stared down at his coffee, as he remembered Ulquiorra's visit the night before, and the strange dream feeling of being safe with him, with them. Maybe it was only his own need to justify his attraction to the creatures he'd met that drove him to be irrational about this now? Vampires, wereanimals, they were supposed to be evil, weren't they?

"I hope so," he muttered at last, and downed the dregs of his drink. If Orihime did Turn, would he let the Reapers kill her, or would he hide her long enough to take Starrk up on his offer? That he could even think about such things, that he'd started to trust the bad guys over the people he'd assumed were the saviours of mankind, unnerved him. Had Ulquiorra done something to him? The book mentioned mind control, unnatural attraction, and several other things that vampires were capable of doing to their chosen prey. Wasn't the vampire supposed to mesmerise his victim, and bite them, before they could alter memories?

Like anything else he'd learned about them was all that accurate.

Ichigo pushed his chair back to get another cup of coffee, taking a second cup from the cupboard to make one for Rukia while he was up. Silence filled the space between them, it made the clatter of crockery and the splashing of liquid against the enamel seem loud.

"Is Renji at Urahara's again?" Ichigo asked as he handed her the cup.

Rukia took the cup with a nod, her hair bobbing around her face as she frantically tried to make amends, "It was the easiest choice at such short notice."

It was too late for his doubts to abate it seemed, and Ichigo reminded himself that Rukia hadn't stayed with Renji. Just keeping an eye on Ichigo to determine his loyalties wasn't strong enough of an excuse to stay in his home like this. With his family. The only reason which made any sense was Ichigo himself, and the fact that the Reapers knew he wasn't what he'd always thought he was. Starrk had made a comment about him being part human, with Lilynette adding that he didn't smell like one either. Grimmjow had said he was one of them, and Ulquiorra had implied he was like them enough not to Turn from were-venom. So what did that leave? Some sort of hybrid combination of all three? And where did he get the Nightbeast blood? The Reaper? Both of his parents were _human_!

What did it mean that the Reapers were keeping him under surveillance, withheld information from him, and threatened his friends? There was an utter lack of trust on their behalf, which felt as though it was in complete contrast to the Nightbeasts. For even now something told him that if he asked his questions, at least with Ulquiorra and Grimmjow, he'd get honest answers instead of being expertly deflected.

No matter what happened now, Ichigo was sure of one thing; he couldn't ever let the Reapers know what had happened with the vampire, and werepanther. They wouldn't trust his word that he hadn't become a renegade, and deep in his heart he was beginning to wonder if it wasn't true.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Grimmjow had been patrolling his and Ulquiorra's territory for several hours when he finally neared Karakura Town. It felt inevitable somehow, as though he'd have ended up here no matter what direction he might have headed in. The cat in him was curious about the Reapers he'd sensed last night, the ones in close proximity to Ichigo, whose reiatsu was only too easy to track. The stupid idiot apparently didn't know how to hide his power signature, which was strong enough that it blazed like a beacon in the distance. If he was affiliated with the Reapers, why hadn't they bothered to teach him how to harness that power? It made no sense to Grimmjow, just as Ichigo's poor fighting skills confused him. The guy had a fuck-load of natural talent, but that wouldn't keep him alive for long if they thought to use him in battles against Hollows any time soon.

And they _would_ want to use him. There were not that many Reapers who had the kind of strength that Ichigo had; he was too great a weapon to leave as he was, unless Grimmjow was right, and they were fucking things up already through intent or neglect. Biased bastards probably didn't want anything to pollute the gene pool, so refused to welcome him into the family with open arms. It was the kind of thing they'd do, too.

As Grimmjow contemplated the situation, he found himself pacing the perimeter, just inside the tree-line, his eyes fixed on the town in a predatory fashion. If not for the real Reapers he might have tested the waters by walking down the streets looking for the ginger one, but he didn't want to chance his presence being the catalyst to the Reaper's eventual betrayal. Let them fuck this up without any help from Hollows, so they'd only have themselves to blame later.

Instead he concentrated on Ichigo, fairly sure he could _scratch_ at his reiatsu while not alerting anyone else. Something to get the guy's attention without being too overt.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

If Ichigo was a smoker it would make his sudden desire to go outside less suspicious to anyone watching him. Something had been pushing heat and energy at him, then retreating, only to come right back and start again. Irritated, Ichigo took his lunch break a little earlier than was strictly acceptable, using the excuse that he'd been awake too long, and needed some time to himself. Rukia was hopefully still over at Urahara's with Renji as she couldn't exactly sit in on patient appointments. Ichigo sent a quick, and somewhat guilty glance in the direction of the shop as he headed out of town.

It wasn't _completely_ out of character for him to sneak off every now and then. Ichigo's father spent most of his spare time coming up with ways to attack him after all. Not being where he was expected was a classic evasion tactic when he wasn't in the mood to deal with the insanity. Luckily today had been one of those days when Kurosaki Isshin had found repeated excuses to show his own brand of familial affection, and Ichigo was pissed off about it enough to be radiating 'fuck off' vibes that even his aura-blind father could read clearly.

The trees seemed to swallow the noise of civilisation, and with it much of Ichigo's stress. Not long after he'd stepped into the shadows there was a crunch to his right as someone deliberately stepped on a branch. Ichigo turned to see a stranger leaning nonchalantly against a tree trunk. Bare, muscled arms were folded over a broad – also bare – chest. Ichigo swallowed nervously, not sure what he'd expected to find, but knowing that this rather self-possessed man with hair the colour of a clear summer sky wasn't it. Seriously, who had blue hair? It didn't even look like the result of one of Urahara's little 'oopsies', even his _eyebrows _were blue.

They stared at each other for a split second, before the stranger broke into a feral grin. It was an animal smile full of teeth and warning, along with a manic glee that blazed brightly in those oddly-familiar blue eyes.

Ichigo called Zangetsu as his heart sped up in his chest. He held the tip out toward what he was fairly certain was a Nightbeast. Confusion over how he knew that swamped him, but he was willing to follow his instincts. Someone had been calling him, if not this guy, who?

"Ya know, ya got no natural stealth ability what-so-fuckin'-ever," the man stated dryly.

Ichigo felt his eyes widen with the sudden realisation of who was standing there all larger than life, and he lowered his sword slightly in surprise. He looked like a _man_, hadn't the book – and Rukia – told him Hollows, except for vampires, lost their human forms forever once they'd Changed? Yet that voice was too distinctive to be anyone else.

"Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked, though he felt vaguely retarded to even question it. This was just another example of the misinformation his friends had left him with. What were they expecting him to do if he unexpectedly found himself facing a human-looking Nightbeast? Uninformed he'd have been a sitting duck, if not for Grimmjow's bizarre reluctance to kill him.

"Mm, first name basis already, eh?" Grimmjow let his arms drop, body still just as relaxed as he had been the moment Ichigo had first noticed him. Was he so confident that Ichigo wouldn't strike him with Zangetsu? "I like that, Ichi."

"Don't call me that," Ichigo growled, eyes narrowing sharply at the sound of Karin's favourite nickname on this creature's lips. Not least because he didn't want to admit how much the deep drawl made it somehow indecent. Disturbingly so. "Why are you here?" That was a good, solid foundation on which to build a reasonable conversation. Much better than; 'Why are you in my dreams every night?'

Grimmjow barked out a laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo's spine, and the creepy grin cranked up another level or two. Yet Ichigo had caught a glint in those eyes which wasn't amusement. The werepanther studied him, even more intently than Ichigo returned the gesture. It was the look of a predator; assessing weaknesses and strengths. Ichigo tightened his grip around Zangetsu's hilt.

"I was makin' my rounds," Grimmjow said at length. The pause suggested it wasn't what he'd originally meant to say.

Both eyebrows drawn together in suspicion, Ichigo watched Grimmjow step away from the tree. It made no sense that these creatures had no respect for him, but would offer him a position among them nonetheless. That one instance of distrust from the werepanther only made Ichigo more uncomfortable with the entire situation. It was bad enough that he'd come out here, against what the Reapers had told him, and was knowingly consorting with the enemy, he shouldn't make things worse by allowing his fucked up desire to trust these creatures blind him to the truth. They didn't know him, any more than he knew them. Maybe Ulquiorra really had done something to him, to his thoughts.

"Marking your territory, you mean," Ichigo accused a little more sharply than he'd intended. He had to keep his wandering attention in this conversation, and with that in mind he yanked his gaze upward from where it had started following the rippling muscles of Grimmjow's chest.

Grimmjow cocked his head to one side with a shrug, and an extra shimmer of amusement in his eyes. He'd seen the look, apparently, and he returned it now, much to Ichigo's chagrin, "That business with th' wolves? It wasn't a one-off. Watch ya back, or ya won't make it through whatever's comin'."

Uncertain as to why he believed the werepanther so strongly, Ichigo inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the warning, though he noticed Grimmjow didn't deny Ichigo's theory of why he'd really come here. What possessed Grimmjow to share inside information was still up for debate, however. Ichigo contemplated the other man's body language, his expression. "You don't know what's going on either, do you?" The idea struck him as he spoke. Shit, what were they supposed to do now? More than one instance was surely a pattern, and that meant intelligent design, so something or some_one_ was behind the recent attacks.

"No," and the panther didn't sound happy about it. "But Starrk's no weaklin'. If he can't control his people; it's a fuckin' _bad_ sign."

Ichigo sighed, and banished Zangetsu. The earnest emphasis in the other's tone left no room for doubts. At least not here and now. Later perhaps he'd have all the time in the world to berate himself for letting his guard down. For letting instinct guide his actions.

Grimmjow slid closer, his bulky frame taking up too much space in Ichigo's mind. Brown eyes searched blue, questioning, suspicious, but not afraid. Whatever else might be going on here, Ichigo swore he could see the same spark in Grimmjow's expression that had been floating through Ulquiorra's the night before. Hunger, but there was no blood-lust mingling in to suggest this creature intended him harm.

Frozen in place with indecision, Ichigo waited and watched as Grimmjow slowly moved closer. No signs of an imminent attack in that steady gaze or body, not that Ichigo was confident he'd recognise the tell-tale shift of balance, or tensing of muscles in time to save himself if it came down to it. They were close enough now for Ichigo to see the shades of each individual fleck in those blue eyes. So close that the other's scent and warmth filled his senses. Ichigo could do nothing but stare as he was forcibly reminded of his dream, of these same eyes burning him with their heat.

"Ya better 'member what ma reiatsu feels like, Ichi, 'cause it's not safe wandering out inta the forest like ya did," Grimmjow husked the words out. His voice so low and gravelly – Ichigo shivered in response. "An' if ya find their trainin' ain't up ta expectations, ya let me know. I'd be more than happy ta teach ya a few things."

Just by the tone of his voice Ichigo was fairly convinced that Grimmjow was not referring to swordsmanship, or at least not that alone. Heat flooded Ichigo's face, to which Grimmjow only grinned again. Ichigo growled and pushed him away, trying to ignore how the well-defined chest felt under his hands. The feeling lingered even as he rubbed his hands on his trousers.

Grimmjow's head fell back in a hearty laugh that made Ichigo cringe and glance around. Someone might have heard that, and there were Reapers around who'd likely know exactly what Grimmjow was. Just how likely were Rukia and Renji to believe him to be if they happened to find him out here, alone, against orders, and fraternising with their sworn enemy? Ichigo didn't know how he was going to explain it should that happen, and for the first time he realised that he couldn't just stand there and let them kill Grimmjow like they'd want to. The werepanther might be dangerous, but he wasn't a threat. Grimmjow was sentient, not one of the mindless freaks Ichigo had felt the need to eliminate for the protection of Karakura Town.

Ichigo stepped forward, and slammed a hand over Grimmjow's mouth in an attempt to keep the volume down. "Shhh! You _idiot_. Do you want everyone to know you're here?"

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo headed back into town with the usual frown securely in place. Grimmjow was full of surprises. Who knew it was possible for these creatures to change forms like that? Hell, after this he was loath to believe anything he'd read in that damned book. Nothing he'd been taught seemed to apply in this situation, and therefore Ichigo had decided he was going to start making up his own rules. He needed a plan and one was forming already.

First of all; not all Nightbeasts were _evil_. It had never particularly made sense to him before that being bitten by something could change someone so drastically – not only their appearance, but also their personality. It stood to reason that new drives and instincts might make a person a little edgier around things that triggered them, however it was completely insane to think it could make someone suddenly okay with eating their grandmother. Mental health could be eroded to the point where medical science couldn't fix the problem any longer, of course, but how could a poison – supernatural or otherwise – utterly wash away the previous moral code of every single victim it encountered? Therefore killing them on sight was no longer a viable option.

Secondly there was the little fact that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra obviously had ulterior motives with this weird invitation of theirs. Both of them looked at him like he was a banquet waiting to be devoured, yet neither of them had harmed a hair on his head. It wasn't like they'd need his permission to take a bite out of him, Ulquiorra had even proved he could enter his house – or indeed anyone's house in town – to get to him if he wanted. Yet he hadn't done anything, and there'd been no evidence of any vampire attacks. Finding out why they were nearby, yet not killing people, was fairly high on the priority list.

Thirdly; Ichigo didn't like the idea that the Reapers were willing to kill his friends just for Turning. It was like a sickness. Just because the common cold couldn't turn you into what amounted to a cannibalistic monster didn't excuse the two very different attitudes. As far as he knew, no one was even seriously working on a cure for either one, but you didn't cut the heads off people just because they'd developed a sniffle, why would suddenly sprouting claws and fangs be any different? Leniency, at least long enough to figure out if they were dangerous, or not, sounded like a good idea.

Lastly, and the one that gave Ichigo sweaty palms, was simple; he wanted to get to know them. To know the truth about them, him, his past, and just what the Hell had started the entire stupid war. Because that's what all this boiled down to; a war. It just depended which side of the line you were on as to who you believed to be evil, or not. Neither side seemed to care why the other thought the way that they did, or so he was beginning to see. Why else would Grimmjow be so concerned for his safety, if not because he was convinced Ichigo was in danger? Why would he even care if he was truly evil?

Ichigo went back to work, but it was a very good job no one needed surgery for the rest of the day; his concentration was shot to pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, I just play with them when he's not looking.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Rukia makes a not-so-cryptic comment which leaves Ichigo paranoid, and another attack spreads unrest throughout Karakura Town.

A/N: Apologies for the tardy posting, but with one thing and another it looks like the schedule's been thrown out the window for the moment. I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas, or whatever holiday you might have been celebrating? Getting to your reviews might take some time as I'm here, there and everywhere this time of year, which means sporadic internet access. Well, that and the move. ^_^

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo wiped the sweat from his brow as he eyed Urahara with serious caution. If there was one thing he'd learned about the shopkeeper it was that he was a tricky bastard at the best of times. After training with him for the past three hours? He was feeling paranoid. Brown eyes narrowed when Urahara tilted his head to one side, a pleasant smile on his lips. Trouble. That's what this little expression signified, and Ichigo was not fool enough to fall for it.

Not twice in one day.

They'd moved on for the moment from the slow-motion sword play, mostly because Ichigo had been about ready to stomp home in irritation – after nearly two hours of constantly losing his concentration over mental pictures of Grimmjow, or Ulquiorra, and he'd rather not have to confess that to Urahara of all people. Luckily he'd swallowed the blatant lie about Ichigo being worried for Orihime, even though there'd been no sign that she was in danger of Turning, and the guilt for that little deception was not helping him in the slightest.

Losing the battle between waiting and jumping in without a clue, Ichigo let loose a vicious swing-turned-upward-slash, unsurprised when Benihime met and clashed with Zangetsu in a spray of sparks. The ear-ringing vibrations travelled up the length of his blade, and continued along Ichigo's arms to spread over both shoulders, but a swift kick directed at Urahara's midsection broke them apart. Ichigo gritted his teeth against the numbness brought on by the sensation, already falling into another defensive stance, Zangetsu held before him steadily. In as much as he could considering he was breathing harshly enough to cause the blade to rise and fall. Apparently it was all according to Urahara's plan, however, as Ichigo didn't even catch the command which sent a bolt of red light blasting from the end of Benihime's blade. There was no time to dodge completely, only to narrowly avoid being toasted to within an inch of his life by Zangetsu's own power, though restrained enough not to bring the ceiling down on his head. Just.

The backlash threw both men into opposite walls, about the same time as Renji cried out during his own practice session with Rukia. Ichigo pulled himself off the floor, his head down and his bleary eyes upturned to find the sprawled form of Urahara before he turned to look at the red-headed oaf, whose legs were encased in ice from his toes to knees.

"Ch, looks like she got you that time, Renji," Ichigo called out in a rough voice as he levered himself up using Zangetsu. It was really lucky that these soul-swords didn't need to be sharpened or anything he thought absently, or he'd eventually have nothing more than a knife with how often he used the weapon as a crutch.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You wouldn't do any better," Renji grumbled good-naturedly.

"I don't know, I didn't do too bad last time, eh Rukia?" Ichigo raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the smirking young woman.

Rukia shook her head, "He's right, Renji. He dodges better than you."

"Hey!" Ichigo complained, annoyed by the implication that he was a coward, even as Renji beat the floor with one fist in his mirth.

"I think that's as much as this old man can take for one night, kids," Urahara informed them, his voice light and amused. He collected, and dusted his ever-present hat before pressing it onto his damp head. Benihime was already sheathed, and once more looked like an unassuming walking stick.

"We should probably start patrolling soon," Rukia agreed sombrely. Everything she said seemed to have that edge of fatality clinging to it, as though she had no understanding of fun, or frivolity.

Ichigo shook his head at the lot of them. As much as he'd like to continue until he was exhausted enough to avoid those weird dreams he'd been having; no one else knew about them, and he wanted to keep it that way. With a sigh he banished Zangetsu, and smoothed his sweaty hair back from his face. A shower would be a good idea about now, he supposed.

"You can use the house bathroom, Rukia," Urahara off-handedly murmured, as though he didn't offer the same thing every single time they worked out together. She nodded and stomped off up the stairs.

Ichigo didn't take long to shower and change clothes. After all this time it was a well choreographed task that he could have done with his eyes closed, which was a good thing as he immediately found himself lost to thoughts of earlier. Sparing had been a welcome distraction, but Ichigo was not one to spend too long ignoring a problem, and his affiliation with the Nightbeasts definitely counted as such.

Therefore, when Rukia caught up with him outside Urahara's he didn't notice for several seconds, and by then he was wishing he'd been paying more attention.

"What?" He'd asked as he slowly focused on her slight form beside him.

"I asked why you lied to me," Rukia stated with exasperation. She was always quick to lose patience.

"I'm sorry?" Panic spread through his insides at the thought that she'd seen him with Grimmjow. Talking. Not fighting. Communing with the enemy in broad daylight where anyone could have seen them. He'd been an idiot. Ichigo mentally kicked himself for his stupidity.

"You should be."

"No," Ichigo shook his head, waved a hand in the air in the negative, and stopped to look at her properly. He wondered if she could see the guilt in his eyes, or if that was just his paranoia. "I don't know what you mean. When did I lie to you?"

"You promised you'd stay in Karakura Town while we were gone."

The truth crashed over him at her words, mingled with something that could have been relief, but deep down he wasn't sure what was worse; that the Reapers had found out he'd disobeyed and broken their rules, or that they might find out he'd done worse; that he'd made contact with the very creatures he was beginning to believe they wished him to remain ignorant of.

When had his life gotten so complicated?

"What was I supposed to do, Rukia? They attacked Inoue, she could Turn in a few days. Who knows how many others might have died if I hadn't done something?" Ichigo barely refrained from spitting the words out, annoyed that she couldn't understand what he meant. Or just didn't care. Though he didn't want to believe she could be so callow.

Rukia's eyes seemed to double in size as she stared at him in silence. It was difficult to work out if she was angry, shocked, or worried, and her expression was no help in deciphering her emotions.

"You lied to me, too, you know," Ichigo finally told her, unable to keep the edge of real anger out of his voice. He glanced back at Urahara's in time to notice a shadow in the darkened window of the living quarters. Renji was spying on them, no doubt.

"I... I don't understand."

"You told me that Nightbeasts lost their ability to reason once they Turned. It's not true. The Wolf leader killed those Beasts that attacked Inoue," Ichigo shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers, unsure why he was willing to tell her this much. "I couldn't... they were too strong for me. I told him they'd attacked my friend, and he killed them for it."

It was an oversimplification, perhaps, but essentially what had happened.

"You spoke to one of them?" She rounded on him so fast Ichigo had to fight the instinct to lift an arm in self defence. "They're not _people_, Ichigo."

"You could have fooled me," Ichigo muttered, saddened by the fact that out of what he'd said _that_ was what she'd heard, or all she cared about.

"Obviously you _are_ a fool, Kurosaki," Rukia glared at him, her hands in fists at her sides.

Ichigo shook his head, beyond irritated. He couldn't see a point in answering in the face of such prejudice. Instead he resumed walking toward home, but Rukia was relentless when she had an excuse to berate him.

As the tiny woman resumed bitching, Ichigo cut her off; "Don't you have to patrol with Renji or something?"

That stopped her for all of five seconds. Her violet eyes grew impossibly large, then narrowed to slits as her lips flattened in irritation.

"This isn't a game, Kurosaki Ichigo. If the Head Captain believes you have been compromised he _will_ order your execution. There'd be nothing I, or my brother, could do. Don't you understand? He doesn't trust you. You're not one of us. Not really. Most of the Captains wanted you dead as a pre-emptive form of self preservation as soon as they found out about you," Rukia enunciated most of her diatribe as though she were speaking to someone particularly slow-witted.

It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, but the seriousness in her voice blasted him with the heat of her anger, and Ichigo hung his head for a moment, ashamed of his selfishness. What she wasn't saying was that she'd be held responsible. Because those bastards couldn't just accept he'd done something himself, they'd accuse her of conspiracy for once having stood up for him.

Then he remembered Grimmjow's words, Ulquiorra's quiet interest, and the fact neither of them had harmed him. That Starrk's original determination to do so was less a result of hate, or insanity, and more to do with the kill-or-be-killed mentality which echoed exactly what he was thinking about the Reapers. At least the Nightbeasts were willing to accept him, for what he was, as he was, without threatening to kill him if he refused to bow to their demands.

Ichigo clenched his teeth together in frustration. He wanted to promise all over again that he'd behave himself. If it would save her from being tarnished with the same traitorous brush as himself, it was the least he could do, but he knew it would be a lie. There was no way he'd be able to stand by and let those creatures kill the townsfolk if he could stop it. It was impossible.

It was unfair that a man he'd never met would ask – no, _expect_ – him to.

"What about what's right, Rukia?" Ichigo retorted without heat. This whole thing was hopeless.

"Promise me you'll go straight home, and leave the Nightbeasts to Renji and I. _Please_ Ichigo. I don't want to have to hunt you down like an animal. Think about your sisters, your dad..."

"All right! All right. I'll go home for now," he grumbled. Ichigo raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head, bright ginger hair left stuck up in every direction when he lowered the arm to his side again. "I wanted to make sure Inoue was settled in for the night anyway."

The small Reaper nodded sharply, eyes intent on his face as though looking for a sign of deceit.

A huff escaped the young man's lips as he turned on one heel and stalked off toward the clinic. This time of night the front 'business' area was darkened, the lights switched off when Karin was finished with the last of the paperwork for the night. Ichigo fixed his gaze on the sign above the front window and ignored the woman behind him. Let her gawk at him as though he were the village idiot. It didn't matter so long as she never found out that he'd sort of made friends with two powerful Nightbeasts.

If only he could believe that his mistakes – no he knew he was right, dammit! – wouldn't get anyone else hurt.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

It was the clamouring of warning bells that drew Ichigo out of a restless sleep some two hours later. Heart beating frantically in his chest, he sat up and looked through the window. He hadn't bothered to close the shutters since Ulquiorra's appearance the other night. For one thing it seemed pointless as the vampire could go through the sturdy wood like it was nothing but flimsy paper if he wanted to, and for another Ichigo was half hoping for a return visit.

The night was full of movement and light. Ichigo stared in shocked silence for a brief moment then threw the covers to the side as he darted out of bed in search of clothes. Several of the houses near the edge of town were on fire, the hungry flames shooting upward into the night sky as bucket lines formed and the distant wail of sirens promised some form of assistance soon, but the emergency services were understaffed, and could conceivably be too late to save the buildings themselves. It was debatable whether they'd arrive in time to save anyone who may have been caught in the blaze.

Ichigo made his way down the stairs, and out of the kitchen door, in record time. Crowds had formed around the worst of the damage from the arson attack, though most of the upright citizens of Karakura Town milled in place, rather than extend the effort of offering any real help. Not willing to stand uselessly by the sidelines, Ichigo forced his way to the front of the group and looked around. His father was already there, tending to those who'd escaped the danger. The man might act like a buffoon the rest of the time, but when it came to his profession Kurosaki Isshin was a surprisingly capable man.

Suspicious brown eyes scanned the shadows around them, searching for something, anything, which didn't belong. It might have been a long shot, but if there was any chance this was a distraction created by Nightbeasts, Ichigo wanted to be prepared. There was movement that set his heartbeat speeding along for a split second, and then Renji's face flashed into sight long enough for Ichigo to recognise him. If there were any Nightbeasts out there they would surely be found, and destroyed, without Ichigo's involvement.

Shoulders rounded, and determinedly ignoring the twinge of fear that the two Reapers would be unable to fight effectively against the werepanther, vampire, or the two wolves Ichigo had become acquainted with the other night, he turned back to the blaze itself. There had to be something he could do here!

There! In the house on the edge of the Town, closest to the old gates themselves. Over the cacophony of roaring flames and shouting he could almost hear something else, though he suspected it was his imagination, really. However there was a wailing woman alternately covering her face, pulling at her hair, and pointing to the top, right window of a burning house in turn. Ichigo pressed through the crowd to reach her side but couldn't quite get there. Then again, he didn't need to. This close he could clearly make out what she was upset about; her child was still in the house.

Ichigo didn't take the time to think about what he intended to do. That part was rather simple; he'd enter the house – somehow – and rescue the child. In his usual blundering manner he darted around to the back of the house, which was free of spectators, and jumped the back fence. The door was glowing from the heat of the fire behind it, possibly more dangerous looking than the front of the house, but there was a shed just apart from the kitchen window which had yet to catch fire, and from there he might have a chance of making it to one of the upstairs windows.

Scaling the shed was easy enough, thanks to a bench he moved into position, and then it was just a case of not falling off as he made his move. The window was closed, but he didn't think the woman would mind if he broke it in his attempt to save her son. Summoning Zangetsu, he used the sword to take out the glass from a distance, reducing the damage he was likely going to do to himself, before carefully climbing through the space he'd made.

The heat was terrible, but the smoke was worse; blinding him, and choking him all at once. Ichigo pulled a pillowcase off the bed he found in the room he'd entered, and used it was a makeshift face-mask. With the cotton filtering the air he breathed, he was able to stumble through the thick smoke toward the door. It was as dark as pitch; a layer of soot already clung to the contents of the house, making everything blend into everything else.

Fighting through the temperature which dried his skin, and his eyes, as well as the smoke that made it hard to breathe, even through the scanty protection provided by his make-shift mask, Ichigo used Zangetsu to open another door, in order to avoid burning himself, and spotted a small form on the floor. The window across the room chose that exact moment to explode inward, the unbearable heat finally too much for it. Ichigo darted forward and used what he had to hand – namely his sword – to shield himself, and the child. It was at times like these when Ichigo could almost feel the soul of his sword, could almost hear the voice he'd been told he'd be able to hear clearly when he became powerful enough. He could have _sworn_ he heard a voice, male, older than him, strangely calm in the chaos around him, telling him to keep moving.

To live and grow stronger.

Ichigo shook off the strange feeling in favour of banishing the sword, collecting the child, and heading back the way he'd come. Without even looking he knew the front was too dangerous to attempt this, but the shed was closer; it would break the long fall to the ground.

The floor creaked ominously as he manoeuvred around the bed, but there was no point in worrying about it. Either they'd make it, or they'd both die in here. If he stopped now it would only increase the possibility of the fire eating through the structural support beams faster than he could make it to safety. As it was he could already feel the heat coming up through the floorboards, threatening to burn through the soles of his shoes. Silently wishing his imagination wasn't quite so detailed, Ichigo quickly retraced his steps from earlier, and peered out into the yard. From this position he could see the tree line in the distance, and for a brief second he thought he saw eyes reflected back at him in the flickering light of the house fire. Ignoring that as much as he strove to pretend jumping out of a first floor window wasn't capable of getting him killed, Ichigo caught himself on the ledge, and took the gap with a single push of his legs.

Air whistled past his ears as the roof of the shed reared up to meet him, and then he was scrambling to keep his feet under him as his momentum carried him further than he'd expected, thanks to the added weight in his arms.

"Shit!" It was sheer luck that kept him from breaking something as he slid over the edge and fell the last six feet or so to land haphazardly on the neatly-trimmed lawn. Ichigo glanced down at the child he'd pressed closer to himself using instincts he'd never known he had. A young boy, maybe four years old, with soft brown hair. The eyes were hidden behind closed lids, the little body limp in unconsciousness. But alive.

The back fence had a gate, which was held closed with a bolt that Ichigo easily pulled open. Sirens alerted him before he made the corner that the emergency crews had arrived at last, just in time to try and take the child from him before Ichigo could get him to his father despite his protests. Teeth clenched with irritation at their stupidity, Ichigo avoided their grabby hands, and refused to let go until Isshin – who'd seen him coming – met him. Kurosaki Isshin was recognised faster than Ichigo, for once, and they were left alone after that, except for an offer of a lift to the nearest hospital.

"I'll go, Ichigo. You stay and keep an eye on your sisters," Isshin ordered in a distracted tone, his usual ridiculous behaviour drowned by his current patient's well being.

"Yeah, okay. Don't let him die. His mother's around here somewhere," Ichigo looked, but didn't see her any longer. A frown pulled his eyebrows together as he searched a little more intently at that discovery. Where'd she gone while he was inside her house saving her son's life?

Light reflecting off night-sensitive eyes flashed through his mind, and with a curse he ran towards the forest. Surely a mother wouldn't have just abandoned her son to the fire? Something inside of him burned in fury at the thought, tangled around the fear that she'd not gone willingly, if she'd left at all. Scarier things than werewolves and vampires haunted the local area, even if they were seen much less frequently.

Where the hell were Rukia and Renji, anyway? Shouldn't they have already spotted whatever monster might have been hunting innocent families so close to town?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The commotion from the town drew Grimmjow's attention from three miles away where he'd been happily stalking a young buck. He paused – crouched and ready to spring – to lift his head and scent the air, sensitive ears swivelling to pick up the distant sounds of chaos. The deer, realising the very real danger it had been in just moments before took off into the night. Brush and trees rustled as the large animal crashed it's way to safety. So long as it managed not to twist it's fetlock in the dark.

A huffed breath, and a frustrated growl followed the animal. Blue eyes turned toward the town and the unfamiliar – but definitely Hollow – reiatsu. Ichigo was there with the other Reapers, and it wasn't as though Grimmjow gave a rat's ass about the townsfolk, but curiosity had killed smarter cats than him.

In the back of his mind he could hear the warning Nelliel had given him about Hollows running wild. Ignoring their Alpha's. Making trouble that was going to rile up the Reapers until they were hunting them as intensively as they had before, during the War. Only this time there was no crazy ex-Reaper with god-like powers to distract the rest of them. The Hollows were no longer a synchronised army under one man's control. That wasn't their way. Now they were scattered throughout the Great Forest, those powerful Alphas, like Grimmjow and Ulquiorra, or Starrk and Lilynette, or Szayel. The ones born instead of made were few and far between, with territorial instincts which had separated them into small, clan-like groups as soon as Aizen's rule had ended.

Natural it might have been, but damned if it wasn't inconvenient in instances like these. The Reapers' predilection to clump together like cockroaches meant they outnumbered whichever clan they came upon – at least five to one – should they gather together a hunting party.

It wasn't so much the people in Karakura Town Grimmjow wished to protect, so much as his own hide. Ulquiorra wouldn't back down in a fight, but he was still messed up in the head thanks to the last War. Emphasis on the capital letter of 'war'. There had been others in the course of their history, filled with varying degrees of pain and suffering, but that last one had been a real nightmare.

Grimmjow shook off thoughts he'd rather not dwell on, and picked up the pace as he raced between tree and rock. At any other time he'd have thrilled at the speed, at the death-defying stunts he pulled to avoid a tumble in the ravine, or the leap he had to make to clear the remnants of a tree that had been uprooted in a bad storm a few years back, but not tonight. Not with the scent of smoke growing ever stronger in the air.

Movement in the wooded area surrounding the town caught Grimmjow's attention as he slowed. Blue eyes darted around, sensitive nose lifted to aid identification of the unknown person, or animal, but the fire was interfering too much, the scent drowned in that acrid, cloying stench. Grimmjow grumbled to himself, the sound only just above sub-vocal. Stupid fucking bastards were prancing around out here pretty as you please, with Reapers guarding the town, the newbie Hunter stalking the forest, and half the damned town up in arms thanks to the recent wolf attacks. Grimmjow was seriously thought about turning around, and leaving them to the tender mercies of whomever managed to catch them. Why the hell was it _his_ job to police this area? His territory ended several feet behind him, leaving Karakura Town in a little bubble of 'free' space, just like every human settlement was supposed to be. Where was Ulquiorra, anyway? At least the vampire could fly, Grimmjow only had his scent-blind nose to guide him, and the hope that he'd find the culprits, deal with them – permanently – and get away before his own presence was noted. He couldn't even call his bone-like armour without alerting everyone sensitive to changes in reiatsu within a mile or more, because his reiatsu was too damned high, and he didn't have the vampire's ability to suppress his power signature any better than that.

Not that running around like a reflective, white panther was a smart idea in a forest, near a fire, with who-knows-what hunting whatever the fuck happened to have started this whole mess.

What did he have to do to get a do-over? Kill someone? Maybe when this was over, and whomever was retarded enough to have pissed him off was satisfyingly deceased, Grimmjow could go back to bed and pretend this day hadn't happened at all.

Yeah. Right.

Head lowered to try and catch a fresh scent which hadn't been contaminated, Grimmjow stalked closer to the humans. While he did so, he kept one eye focused on the forest around him. The last thing he needed was to stumble over the wrong Hunter. It wasn't so much that he couldn't handle it, but another dead body was one more than they wanted.

Too late. No avoiding the Hunters, and killing the crazy hollow before they discovered his whereabouts; Grimmjow had to duck and hide – which rankled like a bitch – as he caught sight of a dark haired Reaper and Ichigo having a verbal spat while trying to – possibly – rescue a human woman from a firebug. It was a guess, but the smouldering foliage around them was something of a give-away. Eyes narrowed in concentration, the werepanther stretched out with his senses, trying to 'taste' the other's reiatsu. Doing so without alerting his target was a difficult task. Ulquiorra was more adept at this kind of sneaky shit. It involved patience, which wasn't Grimmjow's forte.

Hunkered down in the bushes, Grimmjow couldn't quite make himself back off completely. Part of the problem was that Grimmjow wanted to know if this was another example of Hollow's gone nuts and ignoring their Alphas, or just a random act of violence.

"I can take it from here, Ichigo," the woman hissed. Her tone one of superiority. Grimmjow snorted softly to himself from his position some ten feet to her right. She probably could deal with the minor power dancing around and shaking his fists at them impotently, even from where he was he could feel the difference in their levels, and she outclassed the firebug just as she was. But Ichigo? Compared to the unknown Reaper's reiatsu, which was about the same strength as a lit match, the not-so-human Hunter was like a bolt of lightning.

So it baffled Grimmjow when a scowling Ichigo turned to the woman who'd been unconscious this entire time, lifted her dead-weight in a fireman's carry, and headed back to the town. No argument, though if looks could kill... Not that Grimmjow needed to use his imagination to work out what the guy was feeling; his anger, frustration, and dissatisfaction rolled off him in waves, tempering his reiatsu so that it flicked around him in biting lashes.

Given time that young man could become powerful enough to give even Grimmjow a real workout.

Annoyed that his current favourite distraction had been removed from his little window of observation, Grimmjow returned his gaze to the short Reaper. She'd already cast a binding spell, though which one Grimmjow didn't really care. It was fairly weak and she had to recite the incantation, so he wasn't impressed enough to pay attention. Whatever-her-name-was made a few accusations, during which the firebug managed to set fire to the edges of her clothes, and pull himself out of the heart of the spell she'd cast. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. This was just pathetic. And was this woman the one who was teaching Ichigo how to use his power? Where was that red headed Reaper who'd been wandering around half-blind when Ulquiorra had dropped in on Ichigo the other night? What had happened to the Reapers that this was an example of their once great race? The incompetence was astounding.

Grimmjow watched her eventually kill the firebug, the corpse disintegrating as all hollows tended to do, then followed her progress as she left never the wiser to his presence. Her instincts were as stunted as her fighting ability, he determined with disgust. Nothing new had been discovered, which meant he'd wasted his time, in regards to the mysterious cause of Hollow defections. However this glimpse of Ichigo and his companions left Grimmjow confident that he'd accept their offer, given the time.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: The night of the full moon arrives, and Ichigo faces the first in a series of events that will change his life forever.

A/N: Okay, so I've noticed a discrepancy here; Orihime was supposed to have gone home, but for some reason I left her at the clinic! Sometimes I just want to slap myself. It makes more sense to me to leave her under observation until after the full moon, considering she was bitten, so I will eventually get around to editing the earlier chapters which contradict everything I've written since that one plot blunder. ^_^ My apologies for messing that up. Oh, and please let me know if the jump here is too jarring. It won't change anything right now, but it will help me make informed decisions on later fics. Thank you!

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Morning came and went with no time to chase down Rukia, or Renji, as Ichigo was left in charge of the family clinic while his father pitched in up at the big hospital. Several people had suffered smoke inhalation, and minor burns obtained during the fire. The little boy Ichigo had rescued had roused, and was none the worse for his experience, though he was being kept under observation for the time being. The mother, however, had yet to say a coherent word.

Nothing too strenuous turned up at the clinic that day, but even so Ichigo was bogged down with double the usual workload. It meant he only had a few moments to spare in idle conversation with Inoue, who was cheerful in the face of the upcoming full moon. That reminded him of his own bite, which hadn't bothered him for a while. When he checked on his wound he found the mark faded beyond what it should have been. He probably wouldn't even scar. Maybe it was a sign he should just convince Inoue to leave with him. They could go find Grimmjow and Ulquiorra; those two would take them in, and wouldn't demand either of them be killed should the worst come to pass.

But Ichigo just couldn't bring himself to do it. That kind of thing stank of a cowardice he had no wish to be a part of.

Denial became his close, personal friend, along with avoidance. Stubborn to the last, Ichigo didn't let himself think about the negative possibilities. Life, friendship, family, these things were so much more important than committing genocide against a people who had shown themselves to be as diverse as humanity. Inoue couldn't end up on the wrong end of Rukia's sword. Ichigo wouldn't allow it. He'd break with the Reapers, and take Orihime with him to safety, should the need arise. Which it wouldn't. He _had _to believe that.

At the heart of Ichigo's determination to carry on as usual was the memory of serious green eyes telling him that he'd never Turn. That Ichigo himself was not in danger of becoming a werewolf. It gave him the strength he needed in such a trying time. If all else failed, he would be strong enough to fight for justice, for what was right. Anything less than that was unacceptable.

**centeroOoOoOoOoOo/center**

The dreams plagued Ichigo every single time he drifted into sleep. Blue eyes, green. Didn't really matter, for now Ichigo was convinced that both of the Nightbeasts had somehow stolen into his mind, his thoughts, and whether it was through vampire, werepanther, or some other, nameless ability, he no longer cared. As the days and nights flew past he regarded them with a type of fondness, for even as his daylight hours grew almost too much to cope with, during those moments – imagined as they were – he felt safe. Horny, but safe, and alive, and the fraction of a second worth of peace he felt when he awakened each time made everything else seem somehow bearable.

**centeroOoOoOoOoOo/center**

By the morning of the full moon Ichigo was unsurprisingly feeling the effects of too much responsibility. Stressed, his mind laden with the sickening knowledge that this could be the last day Inoue Orihime ever saw – maybe, if Ichigo was wrong about her not Turning– weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

So much for pretending that everything was hunky-dory.

Rukia had been scarce for the past few days, other than turning up for 'girl-time' with Inoue one afternoon – during which Chad was evicted from the room – and a failed attempt on her part to convince Ichigo to forgive her for treating him like a helpless child, he'd not seen her. She was still adamant he stay inside the town walls, that he sit around doing nothing. That stubborn attitude of hers probably helped on the battlefield against aggressive, dangerous enemies, but made it difficult to be her friend. Rukia refused to bend even the slightest amount, which left Ichigo frustrated at his inability to convince her to let him help.

So they didn't talk, and he worried about everything alone, and in silence.

Part of him was glad that tonight he'd know – they'd all know – whether there would be a fight between Reapers and newly-Turned (in as much as a bunch of bound, helpless people could really resist being murdered, Ichigo was struggling to see it any other way by then), and which side Ichigo would end up on by morning. Or that's how it felt; tonight would be the deciding factor, and tomorrow his entire world could be changed forever. Once the sun rose he'd have taken those first steps on the path of his destiny, and maybe then this sense of being pulled in two directions at once would finally be gone.

Ichigo threw himself into last minute preparations for the full moon. With his father still busy at the main hospital it fell to Ichigo and his sisters to ready everyone for the possibility that one or more of the survivors would Turn tonight. Only four people – one of which was Orihime herself, another Ichigo – had lived past the initial danger period of being bitten, and Ichigo still hadn't spoken to anyone other than Urahara about his own little mishap. Therefore there were only the three rooms to secure against Nightbeast attacks.

Nervous over the outcome of this night, Ichigo checked and double-checked all of the safety measures he could put into place, from the reinforced cuffs which would chain the survivors to their metal-framed beds for the night, to the security doors of the cells themselves. Karin and Yuzu were both over friends houses, so someone would be around to open up in the morning should anything go wrong, and Isshin was expected to arrive back before sunset to oversee his usual responsibilities.

Tension singing in his veins as the daylight slowly faded away, and time ran out, Ichigo found himself constantly glancing out of the nearest window to wherever he happened to be at the time, his thoughts circling around his new friends. The ones his Reaper friends would try to kill on sight. Was it really fair to assume that all monsters were monstrous? Or was it only the newly Turned? It seemed difficult to believe that Starrk would have offered to take Orihime under his wing if that were true.

Just when Ichigo was starting to worry that his father had been detained, and the task of watching over the survivors would fall solely on his shoulders, Kurosaki Isshin appeared out of nowhere with a foot aimed at his son's head. Anyone else would have thought the man's approach to tough love to be extreme, but Ichigo merely dodged the sneak-attack having heard a slight rustle of fabric and the scuff of shoes on polished tile. Paranoia kept most of his braincells in working order, after all. The elder Kurosaki crashed into the wall, knocking a framed print onto the floor which cracked the glass in the process.

"Don't you think your patients are more important than some crazy test of manhood, eh goat-face?" Ichigo asked, one finger scratching at his ear as he glanced away from the crumbled figure toward the corridor through the open door of his office.

"Oh, my son! Your mother would be so proud if she were here to see how easily you deflected me!" Isshin babbled excitedly, tears streaking his face and his hands waving madly in the air.

Ichigo sighed, barely suppressing the urge to throw one of the files from his desk at the man. Only the knowledge that such actions would do nothing to shut the gibbering idiot up stayed Ichigo's hand. It really wasn't worth the effort.

"All three attack victims are locked down, Chad wanted to stay the night, if you'll let him, and I've already made the calls to the authorities," Ichigo ticked each point off on a different finger, and then shuffled through the loose paperwork remaining on his desk. There was nothing important to impart to his father that couldn't wait until the man had read through the files waiting for him on his own desk.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence then, and Ichigo eventually looked up to find his father staring at him intently. Very seldom in his life had Ichigo ever seen that particular look on the man's face, he'd acted the fool so often.

"What?"

"I'd understand if you wanted to wait this one out, you know." Isshin stated, his voice low, and strangely grown-up.

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Ichigo shook his head and looked away. It was too hard to meet that gaze. "I'd just be pacing around upstairs so I might as well stay for a while and make myself useful."

"Are you prepared to watch what might happen to your friend? You know what the standard procedure is for those who contract the virus," Isshin asked, still serious, though his tone was oddly soothing against Ichigo's nerves.

"She won't Turn, Dad," Ichigo offered with a small smile.

"You know that for sure, do you?"

**centeroOoOoOoOoOo/center**

When the moon rose that night Ichigo was sitting across from Chad, between them they held each of Orihime's hands. She was secured to the bed with reinforced leather straps, but she'd been made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. The sun had set less than an hour ago, but the moon had only just risen. Ichigo found himself tensing, his nerves frayed beyond recognition as he waited for the first signs of the Turning. Nothing happened right away, and then continued not happening for the next fifteen minutes.

Dare he hope? After all that worrying were they all going to be okay? The three friends glanced around between themselves, relief beginning to wash over them as the idea that they were safe finally registered.

Then the first howling rose. Distant enough that Ichigo was certain none of the survivors in the clinic was responsible, but loud enough that he knew it was coming from inside the town walls.

On his feet faster than his brain could process it, Ichigo threw a reassuring smile at the others. "I'm just going to make sure everyone else is okay. Looks like you'll be fine now, Inoue."

The door unlocked with the aid of the key he'd been wearing around his neck. He hesitated a moment, then glanced back at the silent form of his giant friend, Chad. "Here," he tossed the rope necklace with its slender piece of metal across the room, "Just don't lose that, or let her out of those straps until the sun rises, yeah?"

Chad nodded slowly, his eyes holding worlds of words he'd never say aloud. Ichigo grinned, understanding what Chad wasn't saying all too well.

"I'll see you later," Ichigo told him, then waved at the room over his shoulder as he walked out.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The moonlight was exceptionally bright when Ichigo slipped out of the back door. The Reapers had their hands full checking the hospital and both clinics between them for the Turned, so it was possible that they'd be slow to react to the very real danger of older Nightbeasts making their way into town under the power of the moon.

Ichigo'd been practising for this with Urahara. It was because of what he'd seen when he fought Starrk and the others that he'd known he needed to get faster, and stronger. To protect his loved ones, his friends, and this town from the things of nightmares he had to fight better than they did. With the weight of fear he'd been struggling under dissipated now, Ichigo was determined to show Rukia and Renji that he should be out there patrolling at night, too. He wasn't just a human with the ability to summon a sword; he could damned well wield it. He was a Hunter.

Another howl pierced the night, this time accompanied by a high-pitched scream. Eyebrows drawn into a scowl, Ichigo rounded the house on the corner and spotted the source of the haunting sound. Two shadowy figures, one bulky and covered in fur, the other much smaller, and far frailer, writhed together under the silvery glow of the moon.

Before his eyes had even registered that it was too late for the unfortunate victim, Ichigo had summoned Zangetsu to his right hand, and planted his foot on the side of the werewolf's head in a devastating round-house. Or it would have been, had his target been merely human. Instead of snapping the thing's neck it barely tilted the huge, shaggy head to the side. Ichigo had only managed to make the creature change it's focus from the dead body in it's arms, to himself. Well, he wasn't going to offer to arm wrestle one of these things any time soon, that was for sure.

"You picked the wrong town, asshole," Ichigo grumbled as his arm lashed out, the over-sized blade swinging through the air with deceptive ease.

Clawed hands – and they were hands, not paws – swiped at him as though the 'Beast didn't even see the weapon, but the snarling turned into screams of rage and pain as Zangetsu cut through fingers and neck like a hot knife through butter. Panting, Ichigo watched the corpse hit the ground with a muffled thud, before melting into furred sludge, and eventually disintegrating; the powder drifting on the night air.

Urgh. That had to be the single most disgusting thing he'd ever seen with his own two eyes, and considering his day job, let alone his personal experience with Orihime's cooking, that was saying something. And the _smell_! If he hadn't been expecting it...

Glad soul swords didn't need to be cleaned, Ichigo spun in a circle, eyes avoiding the girl's body that lay in a grizzly, and grotesque heap on the ground at his feet. There was no point letting himself think about her, or recognising her, but just knowing he'd been too late to save her would torment him enough already, without him breaking down and proving himself as useless as the Reapers believed him to be. Later, when the sun rose and the battles were over until the next night, there'd be time to mourn.

Moving swiftly from shadowy recess to garden wall, he searched Karakura Town. Not only with his eyes, which were able to see remarkably well in the silvery light of the moon overhead, but with his other senses. That part of his aura which allowed him to summon Zangetsu stretched out around him as he forced energy into his seeking. It was dangerous, he knew, for in doing so like this he risked being 'felt' in return, but he was fairly confident of something that he'd not been the last time he'd been out hunting; the really strong monsters weren't likely to be prowling the streets looking for an opportune meal. Starrk and his wolves, the Pack, would not be here, whoever or whatever was would fall under his blade like that pathetically easy-to-kill _i_thing_/i_ he'd just put out of it's misery.

How or why Ichigo knew this – and truly it was closer to knowing than hoping – he didn't question the feeling, instead going with it. There was plenty enough to worry about without adding fear of intelligent, speaking creatures who were not so different from himself to the mix.

A scrabbling sound drew Ichigo's attention, but it turned out to be nothing scarier than a cat hiding in a scraggly bush, the pair of yellow eyes making his heart beat faster before his brain acknowledged the utter lack of spiritual pressure. Certainly there was nothing too close which would warrant his attention, and with that in mind Ichigo extended his hunting grounds by several blocks at a time.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Time passed, fraught with dangers he'd met head-on over and again. Zangetsu had cleansed more Nightbeasts in the past hour than Ichigo'd seen before all rolled into one. The neighbourhood had quieted considerably. The creatures he'd defeated couldn't even communicate, let alone function like the humans they'd once been. Whatever brain activity had survived their transformation it seemed it didn't extend to understanding that a sword was a dangerous weapon. Nearly a fortnight ago he'd faced more frightening odds when he'd confronted the wolves!

Debating with himself over the pros and cons of leaving the relative safety of the town itself as his confidence soared, Ichigo felt a subtle tug from the direction of the dark forest. Not only was this stronger than anything else he'd felt tonight – including the occasional bursts he was picking up from Rukia and Renji – but he knew this 'flavour'. Recognition flared through his veins, his head swivelling without conscious thought to pinpoint Grimmjow's location. If not for Grimmjow's demand that he remember this feeling of charged heat and raw power he wouldn't have been able to distinguish it now from the myriad of other, much more obvious signatures scattered throughout the wooded area just outside the town gates.

Every step into the night was another mark against him, he knew that, but something inside of him was practically howling with glee at the idea of exploring that wooded territory on a night of the full moon. When all of the monsters were bound to be out there, prowling. Hunting, just like he was.

Ichigo tilted his head to the side, and inhaled through his nose, instincts he'd never known suddenly demanded he check the air for the scent of danger, even as his own reiatsu unfurled further, the force of it simultaneously falling until it felt weaker, softer, more tamed than he'd ever managed to attain under Urahara's watchful eye. The Nightbeasts were everywhere around him, or so his senses informed him. Questioning himself, and his abilities was another thing to be pushed to one side for now, he realised; the night was dangerous enough without doubts, or distractions.

The excitement rearing its head was another matter, however, and one he had no defence against. In the same moment as Ichigo admitted to himself he'd been hoping to see the werepanther again, he also came to notice that the night felt more alive than ever before. Was it the thrill of breaking the rules which gave him this clarity of sight, sound, and scent, or was something else at work here? His gaze rose to the glowing sphere in the sky, easy enough to make out between the branches of the trees around him as he moved deeper into the forest, making no sound at all as his feet strangely avoided every dry leaf and fallen twig. He couldn't help but remember his worry over the past few days, and how he'd dreaded the thought of being controlled by the moon. Of becoming the very thing he'd set out to destroy. Even that thought was not enough to deter him from his path as he slipped away from his friends and family.

There was a pressure against the edges of his awareness for a moment, gone, and then back again stronger than before. Ichigo sucked in a breath at the sensual feel of it as the familiar energy poured over him the second time. It was like standing in the rain during the height of Summer. So warm, and comforting, and perfect.

Ichigo paused, his ears strained to their limit as he listened carefully for any sign of threat. He was so close now, so close. Just because Grimmjow had claimed that he was a member of his and Ulquiorra's clan, or whatever, didn't mean the rest of the Nightbeasts were aware of it. Having been attacked too many times already tonight he knew better than to blindly follow the tempting tendrils he was trailing after.

A rustle in a patch of low laying shrubs sent him into a defensive crouch, Zangetsu a comforting weight in his hand as Ichigo peered into the darkness around him. The moonlight only seemed to thicken the shadows, and make it harder to see this far into the forest. Tension sang through his shoulders, made its way down along his spine, and spread into his thighs as he readied himself for an attack; though there was no sign of another's reiatsu... Only Grimmjow's, but the werepanther was too far away for this to be him.

Frown in place, Ichigo tried to ignore the burst of adrenalin which made him practically vibrate with the need to pit himself against something dangerous, a fight more demanding than the paltry little Nightbeasts he'd met so far tonight. Where the craving for battle came from he wasn't entirely sure, but again, he trusted his instincts. A slight breeze stirred the trees, and lifted the fine hairs against the nape of his neck. Ichigo held himself steady, ignoring the bizarre urge to close his eyes and purr at the pleasant sensation.

"Hm, yer not much ta look at, are ya?" The cool voice from behind spun Ichigo around, sword held steady despite his surprise and uncomfortable position. He was not expecting the red glint from the shadows – there and gone again – nor the shock of silver hair when his stalker finally revealed himself. A long, grey cloak, or robe, covered the tall, thin stranger from neck to sandalled feet, the long, full sleeves hiding whatever he might be holding in his hands. No obvious weapons were on display, however, which seemed odd considering the situation.

Ichigo frowned in concentration as he curiously used his unstable powers to 'taste' this creature. Whatever else the being was, human just wasn't part of his make-up. There was far too much energy though it took more effort than was pretty for Ichigo to sense it, even as close as he was. Ichigo's own aura had been suppressed enough to hide him from his friends, but this man made his new-found ability look like child's play. If not for the sound he'd made as he passed through the undergrowth Ichigo would never have noticed him.

A creepy smile that curled both edges of the man's thin lips upward spread smoothly across a pale face, tilted as though to examine Ichigo, but how he could see in the dark with his eyes closed, Ichigo couldn't imagine. Uncertain why they were just staring – relatively speaking – at each other, and not liking being crouched so close to the ground with the other above him, the young Hunter slowly rose, Zangetsu still between them, but the sharp tip lowered toward the forest floor.

"Ya got yer mamma's eyes, though," the man continued, amusement seeping from his every pore as he observed Ichigo's change in stance.

"You knew my mother?" Ichigo growled, instantly raising the point of his sword again in a threatening manner. It had to be some evil ploy to throw him, and the sad truth was it was working. His insides were churning in a sickening way, as though a swarm of insects were writhing around in his guts, trying to find a way out.

"I know a lotta folks," the man answered, his smile impossibly widening further.

"Who _are_ you?" Ichigo's instincts told him this man was dangerous, incredibly so, but other than taking an unwanted trip down Memory Lane, he couldn't pinpoint why. The whole package was just plain freaky, from the smirking grin to the permanently closed eyelids.

The man dipped his head as though he were bowing from the neck up, silver strands falling over his closed eyes. "I'm afraid ma name's not gonna mean much to ya," he straightened again smile still in place, but his eyes open just enough to show Ichigo a colour so pale they looked unreal in the moonlight. "Ichimaru Gin, at'cha service."

There was something decidedly off about this Gin character.

"How did you know my mother?" Ichigo's suspicions were beginning to grow with every passing second.

"My, we're all full a questions, aren't we?" Gin asked pleasantly. As through they were not courting danger by merely standing around in the dark on the night of the full moon.

"What the hell're ya doing this close to town, ya crazy fox?"

Both men turned, Ichigo with embarrassingly less poise, as Grimmjow stepped out of the tree line in his armoured panther form. Intense blue eyes barely acknowledged Ichigo before flicking back to pin the silver-haired man in place.

"We was just talkin' about shared acquaintances, and such," Gin replied casually, false innocence dripping from each word. He held both hands out in front of himself as though to prove his point, the baggy sleeves of the grey robe falling back and drooping around his forearms. Bony fingers waggled playfully for a moment before sliding back into the folds of material.

"He said he knew my mother," Ichigo stated flatly, some of the tension fading away from his shoulders with Grimmjow's presence.

Grimmjow's lips peeled back in a silent snarl at the news, blue eyes fairly glowing with whatever emotion he was feeling. It left Ichigo with a sudden urge to step back, but he trusted the Nightbeast enough to hold his ground.

"How could ya know 'is mother?" The werepanther asked, his voice low and gravelly.

The sound worked even better than Grimmjow's being there at dispelling the unease Ichigo had been feeling, and somehow it made the night seem brighter. Less scary.

"Now's not the time ta be divulgin' that sorta information," Gin turned his face one way, then the other, as though looking at both of them through his heavily slitted eyes. "There's a Reaper headed this a way, so maybe we can take this conversation elsewhere?"

Shocked at the revelation, Ichigo struggled to find the aura Gin spoke of, but it took several seconds to recognise Rukia's power signature. She was shielding tighter than he'd known she could. The short woman was probably attempting to spy on him, though hopefully this was a situation she'd never be able to even guess at. Getting away before she caught him talking to the enemy was his first priority at the moment.

"This way," Grimmjow slunk into the shadows his tail twitching in agitation, and it took everything Ichigo had to follow. All of the dread and guilt he'd managed to shove to one side were rearing their heads all over again.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, unfortunately. I just have waaay too much fun with them.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Gin obligingly tells Ichigo about his mother, and in doing so a whole new problem comes to light.

A/N: Chapter 9 is completed already, and I'm part way through chapter 10, therefore next update will be on Wednesday, and I hope the following week will be the same. ^_^ We can but hope, ne?

**centeroOoOoOoOoOo**

Grimmjow grumbled to himself under his breath, the sound mingling with his natural growls in this, his preferred form. What Gin thought he was doing wandering around on a full moon with Reapers prowling the area was anybody's guess. The man lived for getting under others' skin, of twisting their emotions around his fingers and watching them writhe in discomfort. That he would dare try to do the same to Ichigo was enough to raise Grimmjow's hackles, made all the worse for how the Hunter was painfully uncomfortable in this situation. Unable to simply tell the werefox to leave if they wanted to find out anything, he settled for wedging his three hundred pound body between them, his shoulder brushing against Ichigo's leg every now and then as they evaded the Reaper who'd zeroed in on their last location with an unerring accuracy.

Just how she'd been able to find the Hunter without Grimmjow's rather delicate sense of smell, he couldn't quite figure out, but he was sure someone smarter than him would be able to once they lost the annoying woman.

Several times they changed direction, and somehow she managed to compensate, only for Gin to pause, hold up his hand, and turn to Ichigo – though Grimmjow refused to move from between them, and the slighter fox knew petter than to press the issue.

"Did they give ya anythin' they could've put a tracking kido on?"

"Kido?" Ichigo asked, obviously confused by the word, before he shook his head dismissively and patted his sides down frantically. Finally he pulled a flat, wooden object from his pocket. "I have my Hunter's Badge."

"Get rid a it," Gin warned him, his voice low, but the urgency obvious.

Ichigo sighed with no small amount of regret as he dropped the item to the forest floor. If the Reapers were somehow able to follow the badge he couldn't exactly take it with him wherever they were headed, but he wasn't sure he could explain it come morning.

"And ya call them lot yer friends?" Grimmjow cocked a feline eyebrow at the Hunter, then shook his head. Those damned Reapers were paranoid, murdering bastards, with no respect for anyone or anything. The sooner Ichigo accepted that, and turned his back on them, the better.

Gin had at least that much going for him.

Ichigo scratched at the back of his neck, his face turned up to look through the foliage over their heads which hid the moon from view. "Rukia saved me, and my sisters, a few months ago. If she's not my friend, I still owe her for that."

That was news to Grimmjow, and from the fleeting glimpse of emotion Gin let slip, he was just as stunned. Though why the Reapers would save a human and actually reveal who they were, rather than using the usual cover story of being Hunters passing through, he had yet to discover. Maybe once they'd drawn out whatever information Gin was willing to divulge, Ichigo could tell Grimmjow a little more about how he'd met the Reapers, and enlighten him as to where Ichigo got his Reaper-like sword from. It was obvious that the kid didn't know what he was, any more than Grimmjow or Ulquiorra did, but there had to be some clue they'd overlooked so far.

Swiftly leaving the badge-thing behind, they worked their way deeper into the forest, Grimmjow's keen senses on high alert in case Gin was wrong and there was another way for the Reapers to track them. The fact that this Rukia person paused somewhere around where they'd left the badge was damning as far as Grimmjow was concerned, especially when she then faltered for the first time, and they lost her to the night after that; her reiatsu falling further and farther behind until he could no longer feel it at all. Though not before he noticed the addition of a second Reaper, who must have been the redhead with the tattoos he'd observed several nights before.

They were not acting like they trusted Ichigo, which only made Grimmjow growl in irritation.

It took a little longer than normal to reach the river, but in that time Grimmjow observed just how good Ichigo's night vision was, and how fast he could move through the undergrowth. No human could have done it so confidently, or as quietly, for certain.

Grimmjow nudged Ichigo toward a fallen tree with his muzzle, pleased when the Hunter simply followed his silent advice, and showed no fear of his animal form. Gin needed a warning growl, and a show of sharp teeth before he took the hint, and left a satisfiable distance between himself and the younger man. Sat at his newest clan-member's feet, Grimmjow turned impatient blue eyes on the werefox. They didn't have all night; Ichigo would likely want to be home in time to watch the sunrise.

"So tell us how ya know 'is mother, and be quick like," Grimmjow ordered, when it looked as though Gin was content to simply sit on his end of the tree and stare back at them.

Ichigo shifted in place, his thigh pressed reassuringly close to Grimmjow's large feline body. Though it was uncertain as to whether he was trying to calm the situation down a little, or needed to be comforted himself.

"Aizen was all in a tizzy over tha' woman, Grimm, ya must 'member tha' much? The one who died and ruined all a 'is plans?"

The intake of breath behind him was all the warning Grimmjow had before Ichigo moved, faster than he should have been able to, only the fact Grimmjow was already in panther-form enabled him to follow the rapid leap and drawing of weapon. He didn't stop it though. Gin found himself on the business end of Ichigo's absurdly oversized sword, expressive brown eyes burning with anger.

The ex-Reaper didn't do anything, his hands stayed stuffed up his sleeves, eyes slitted almost completely shut, but the smile had faded in intensity at the sudden threat.

"My mother was murdered for no good reason, if you know anything you'll tell me now," Ichigo demanded, his voice so deep with emotion that Grimmjow had to force himself not to intervene. This – whatever happened – was between these two men. And anyway; Gin had started it.

"Ya plannin' ta hold tha' thing against me the whole time?" Gin asked mildly, creepy assed grin spreading once more. Apparently he had some weird kink involving getting his throat slit, not that that revelation was much of a surprise to Grimmjow.

Ichigo lowered the sword, face flaming as though ashamed of his behaviour, "Just talk."

"Aizen was tryin' to save the world. Bet yer li'l friend back there din't tell ya tha'," Gin choirtled to himself. "He believed that there was once one race, the human race, an' then things... evolved," Gin shook his head sadly, the humour he usually hid behind disappeared for a long moment, then his mask slid back into place with a wide grin. "Grimm here's an exception, a course, but I'll let him tell ya 'bout it, you wanna know 'bout yer mamma right now.

"See, Aizen believed we's all the same; he was convinced that killin' Hollows – Nightbeats as ya would call 'em – was like killin' Reapers. But a course the Reapers din't wanna understand what he was sayin'. He'd read the histories, and he'd noticed that there was missin' pieces, as though someone was tryin' ta hide somethin'."

Grimmjow huffed out a breath. "What's with the friggin' History lesson? I thought ya was gonna tell him about 'is mother?"

"I'm getting' ta that, Grimm-kitty," the ex-Reaper told him, his tone soft and without a single sign that the interruption had annoyed him. However, using that particular nickname was tantamount to yanking on his tail so Gin had to be pissed. "What Aizen discovered was that there's this bloodline, the oldest a bloodlines, which proved his theory that Reaper an' Hollow were essentially th' same."

"And my mother was from this bloodline?" Ichigo asked thoughtfully, his huge sword disappearing once more as he sat down heavily.

Gin nodded with an even larger smile, eyes crinkling at the corners in pleasure. "Exactly. Misaki was a direct descendant a the original Reapers, but also the original Hollows, she held both powers, though they was dormant, ya understand? She couldn't summon a sword, or anythin', but she carried the gene. Aizen wanted her fer 'is queen, though she was already married to yer dad. He wanted ta create hybrids, not jus' manufacture ones like me, and Grimm, but somethin' like _you_."

"Me? You're saying I'm some kind of Nightbeast?" Ichigo's confusion was bereft of disgust, at least, but Grimmjow wasn't sure the kid was going to be okay with that idea. It explained a lot about the peculiarity in his scent, which was very different to the hybrids Grimmjow knew, and the Reapers.

"Not a Nightbeast, but somethin' more," Gin leaned forward, his eyes cracking open so that they glowed an eerie red with his interest; his fox-side was close to the surface if his eyes were changing like that. Such a development could be either good or bad, depending on what he was so intensely emotional about. "Aizen's plans were thrown inta chaos when yer mamma died, he wanted her ta join 'is plan fer world peace, but the Reapers were scared a what tha' would mean. They's been killin' innocent Hollows fer centuries, an' then along comes this guy who's tellin' them they's doin' it all wrong, that not all a them's evil."

"It wasn't Aizen who killed my mother, then?"

Gin shook his head, eyes carefully watching Ichigo's face for his reaction. Grimmjow felt as confused as Ichigo felt. He'd not been there when the kidnapping went to shit, but he'd known that the human woman was important – though not why – and that the Reapers had killed her rather than let the Hollows take her back to Aizen. Grimmjow just hadn't put the details together with the name. It didn't take a genius to figure out why they'd let the kid think it was the Hollow's who'd killed his mother, though.

"It was war, Kurosaki," Grimmjow inserted quietly before Ichigo could say anything. It couldn't be easy for the kid to realise that his mother had been a pawn who'd been sacrificed for the 'greater good', as the Reapers would no doubt dub it. "Terrible things happen when people blindly throw themselves inta the fray like that."

Ichigo remained mute for so long Grimmjow was convinced he wasn't going to say anything, then the young man stood up from where he'd slouched, one hand resting upon Grimmjow's armoured head, "Can you tell me which Reaper killed her?"

The silence was deafening as red eyes and brown met, and clashed. Some form of communication passed between them, and then Gin's eyes slid shut, and his shoulders slumped. "It was the old man himself."

Ichigo frowned, then sighed in exasperation, "I don't know who that is, I've only met three Reapers; Rukia, her brother, and Renji."

Gin's head snapped up, and once again Grimmjow was witness to the man's mask slipping.

"Tha's not true, ya know Urahara don'cha?" Gin actually frowned, distaste filtering through the shock. "Those lyin'... I swear to ya, them's not yer friends if'n they's gonna lie ta ya. And there's one other thing. I was the one who did all a the scoutin' on yer mamma, and I discovered something else; it's why I said yer what Aizen wanted ta make; yer dad's a Reaper."

Grimmjow's heart froze in his chest. He'd known, deep down somewhere, he'd known it had to be true. If Aizen wanted the woman to have his children because they'd create natural-born hybrids, and Ichigo had Reaper powers without being an actual Reaper – then there had to be a reason for it. Ever since the first time he'd caught Ichigo's scent, he'd known this Hunter wasn't a Reaper, but he wasn't a Hollow, either, and he'd certainly not been a simple human.

Then the moment was broken with the rustle of wings and a gust of air as a huge bat-like form dropped from the sky. Damned vampire and his ability to hear a pin drop from a mile away.

"You're what the Espada were supposed to be," Ulquiorra stated with such utter sadness that it nearly broke Grimmjow's heart. Those sorrowful green eyes stared at Ichigo as the leathery wings folded around the slender body, stark white face lined with streaks of colour that resembled blood in the moonlight.

"What?" Ichigo startled back, reacting to the sudden, and somewhat unnerving appearance.

"We should prob'ly give 'im a minute," the sound of Gin's voice drew Grimmjow's wits back from wherever they'd just been.

Shit. Ulquiorra'd only just had Starrk bring up Aizen's name, now Gin. At this rate Grimmjow was going to be scraping the vampire off the ceiling of the cave come daylight. As for Ichigo; he'd had quite a shock finding out that he was a different kind of animal altogether, to add in the fact that people he trusted were keeping such big secrets from him was only going to make a bad situation worse. How the hell was he going to sort this out? Grimmjow's skills were almost exclusively combative; he just wasn't equipped for this kind of thing!

Ulquiorra climbed onto the fallen tree while the others watched him, every move deliberate and slow, but full of purpose. With a confidence Grimmjow would have lacked, the vampire reached out with both clawed hands to delicately cup Ichigo's face. There was something terribly beautiful in the way they gazed at each other, and in the contrast between human and Hollow. Lost brown eyes met oddly serene green, then Ulquiorra pressed their foreheads together so their lips almost brushed as he spoke.

"We will not lie to you," he spoke softly, every word carefully enunciated and crisp. "You might not like what we have to say, but I promise Grimmjow and I will not betray you like that. As part of our clan you are entitled to the truth, and if you decide to seek revenge for what was done in the past, you must remember: you are not alone."

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo couldn't breathe for several seconds. He couldn't think; his mind was completely blank. The roar of the blood in his ears the only thing he could hear in the wake of Gin's revelation, and then Ulquiorra appeared from out of nowhere. No one else reacted to his sudden and dramatic entrance, and though outwardly Ichigo didn't either, he couldn't help but flinch back when the vampire leaned in close to examine him. Wonder, awe, and a sorrow so deep Ichigo felt his own pain rush to the surface of his mind stared back at him.

Ulquiorra's words were confusing. What was an Espada?

What did all of this mean?

Ulquiorra's eyes were mesmerising, somehow managing to calm Ichigo's internal storm as he moved closer still, until they were touching gently and Ichigo could only close his eyes as he listened to those lilting words.

_You are not alone._

Such a peaceful thought, and just what Ichigo needed to hear, though he wasn't sure he could ask these men he hardly knew to stand at his back against an organisation who would see them dead. Then he remembered that these men, these Hollows, were already at war with the Reapers. For what else could attempted genocide mean? The Reapers would see all Hollows killed, but Ichigo had realised that they were people, too, and if Gin was to be believed, everyone was related. It boggled the mind how things had come down to this, but someone had to stop the mindless killing.

"I'm going to need to think," Ichigo finally told him – no, them. Gin and Grimmjow were still there, and Ichigo sat back, to look at and include them. He took one of Ulquiorra's clawed hands into his own as he moved, to show the vampire he was not drawing away through aversion.

"I'm not sure yer gonna get that time," Gin put in, his smile back in full force, but Ichigo could see through it now. It was a front to keep the world at bay, to intimidate the weak, and unnerve everyone else. Ichigo refused to let it work on him, and he saw the fear hiding behind the false amusement.

"I have sisters, you must know that if you were watching my family when... when my mother died," Ichigo took a deep, steadying breath. He didn't have the luxury of falling apart. Not with the war spilling over into the lives of the townsfolk, and his sisters unknowingly on the front lines. "Do the Reapers know what I am? Do they know about everything else?"

And there was also his old man to think about; the idiot had been holding back relevant information that could have gotten Ichigo killed. Urahara was just as bad. Their betrayals hurt, and it broke something between them that Ichigo wasn't sure he could forgive, or even mend.

"I know, though Aizen din't share anythin' wiv the Reapers other than that 'e could prove tha' we're all related, an' tha' killin' the Hollows was like killin' each other," the silver head tilted to one side, closed eyes piercingly sharp. "I 'spect they've been watchin' ya."

Ichigo sighed, he'd suspected the same thing. Since he'd developed his ability to summon a soul-sword the Reapers weren't even hiding it any more, though they'd – however understandably – not informed him about the badge being a tracking device.

"I'm going to have to talk to people, and find out what's going on," Ichigo stated. He wasn't asking for permission, he just needed to hear it out loud.

"I don't like it." Grimmjow grumbled, the rumble in his tone carrying like a growl.

"It is possible that your being here tonight, with us, will alert them to the fact you are no longer loyal tot heir cause," Ulquiorra pointed out flatly.

"I know," Ichigo hurried to assure them. He wasn't stupid, though everyone seemed to think he was. "I've got things to do – human responsibilities that I can't ignore, and I'm not defecting or anything; I'm still a Hunter. That doesn't change because I don't agree with killing every Hollow I see. Someone needs to protect Karakura Town, and that's what I vowed to do when I discovered this power. I just didn't agree to be their executioner."

"Szayel an' I will help ya," Gin offered, and the glint of red once more escaped the tightly closed eyelids. Ichigo could practically feel his excitement at the prospect.

**centeroOoOoOoOoOo/center**

"What did Gin mean?" Ichigo asked after nearly half an hour of simply staring into the middle distance.

"Hm?" Grimmjow sat up, bared stomach muscles crinkling visibly as he did so, Ichigo got a little distracted for a moment watching that.

Shortly after the silver-haired man had made his goodbyes, and wandered off, Grimmjow had simply switched forms to that of the stunning human Ichigo remembered from the afternoon they'd met outside the town gates. Blue hair faded to grey in the moonlight, and eyes that glowed faintly didn't detract from the sheer godliness the man exuded without even trying. At least when he was prancing around – okay so maybe Grimmjow stalked more than pranced – in panther form he was easier to talk to.

"He said that you weren't like the other Hollows," Ichigo managed not to stutter, and the pause could be excused by saying he was drawing his thoughts together, but Ichigo didn't think that lie would fool anyone. Grimmjow's pleased grin told him he'd been caught staring.

"I wasn't born Hollow, human, or Reaper," Grimmjow dipped his head, his hair falling into his eyes and shielding them from view, but Ichigo was left with the impression the man was still watching him closely. "Believe it or not, I was born somewhere ta the south of 'ere, in a dense jungle, an' my mother was a black panther, or somethin' very like it."

Ichigo frowned. "How is that even possible? You look like a man now, and you can talk like one."

Grimmjow shrugged, not seemingly bothered by the fact. "I met Ulquiorra shortly after I started thinkin' coherently, when I'd learned how to take on this form. I'm not sure how old I am, or how long I spent wanderin' around between animal and... not. He taught me how to blend in, as much as I'm willin' to."

Ichigo moved and a warm hand shot out to catch Ichigo's questing fingers, then Grimmjow let go of him so Ichigo could brush the blue strands of hair out of his way. The self-confessed cat leaned into the touch affectionately. It was the single most endearing thing Ichigo had ever seen. He wondered what would happen if he stroked through the soft locks as though petting a cat, and whether the man would purr as loudly.

But now was not the time to find out, there was hidden pain here.

Being different could be emotionally hard, Ichigo knew what it was like to be a gay man in a very straight environment, and how he could never be sure how those around him might take it. Now he had something else he had to hide, and he couldn't imagine how hard it must have been on Grimmjow.

"Apparently we have that in common; not being normal, though at least I got to pretend for a while," Ichigo offered a small smile, barely even a quirk of the lips, but Grimmjow's cocky grin returned, and Ichigo was relieved at the sight.

"D'ya wanna head back?" Grimmjow asked, cheek rubbing soothingly over the palm of Ichigo's hand, where it still rested against the side of his face.

"Mmm, I should."

"Just remember that this is our home, an' yours if ya want," Grimmjow told him, his voice practically purring.

Ichigo raised a skeptic eyebrow, "The river?"

The panther snorted with amusement.

"No dumbass, ya see the mound of stuff over there?" Grimmjow pointed. Ichigo turned to search for it, but could mostly only see shadows, trees and bushes, one patch particularly vicious-looking. "The one behind that blackb'ry mess, that's where Ulquiorra an' I live. Ya need somewhere ta go, ya come 'ere, I'll find ya in the daytime, and one or the other of us'll find ya if it's dark. Just don't go trying to crawl in there on ya own; vampires are notorious for killin' anythin' stupid enough to invade their territory."

"I'll bear that in mind," Ichigo retorted dryly.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

It was so late the sky was turning pink by the time Ichigo caught sight of Karakura Town. Grimmjow had led him as far as the outskirts, after making absolutely sure he'd be able to find his way back to their 'den' as he called it. Apparently the wolves had rubbed off on the panther over the years.

There was no sign of anyone as he slowly walked back through the gates. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, but the eerie silence and abandoned streets wasn't it.

Usual frown in place, Ichigo scanned the area as he walked, knowing Renji or Rukia had to be waiting for him, ready to chew him out for leaving the town walls when he'd been basically ordered to stay inside, let alone running off into the forest without backup, and deliberately consorting with the enemy.

Hopefully no one but Ichigo and the Hollows he'd met up with during the night were aware of that last bit.

Ichigo was three houses away from the family clinic when Rukia and Renji both unshielded. Between one step and the next power poured over Ichigo's skin like warm water, but it wasn't even enough to make him catch his breath, which is should have done. While one part of his mind rolled that around, the rest of his attention focused on his visitors. Renji was standing behind the smaller form of his best friend, who scowled at him, those violet-blue eyes showing just how infuriated she was.

"Ah, hi Renji," Ichigo nodded to the other man, recognising the look of discomfort the man was struggling to hide, then met Rukia's gaze. "Rukia."

"Dammit Ichigo. Why couldn't you just stay inside like I told you?" The sound of frustration was expected, but not the element of defeat. "My brother's going to find out, and you'll be dragged back to Seireitei to face a court hearing."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, irritated that she thought they could keep treating him like a child. That he was accountable to them for his behaviour. Only a few weeks ago he'd have fallen over himself to apologise, but after what he'd learned tonight he just couldn't make himself say the words. It felt like a betrayal against his mother to speak such utter bullshit.

"Did you even notice how many Nightbeasts I _cleansed_ tonight?" Though Ichigo didn't agree with killing any and all Hollows on sight, the ones he'd taken out tonight had been a threat to the peace of his town, and the people who lived there. "Or do you care more about keeping me under lock and key like a dangerous pet you can take out and parade around in front of guests, but who isn't welcome at the dinner table?"

"Ah, come on man, that's really not called for..." Renji started, only for Ichigo to cut him off with a shake of the head and a hand held up, facing them.

"No. I've had enough of the lies! I want the truth," he glared at Rukia, "Did you know my 'Hunter's Badge' was nothing more than a fancy tracking device? Did you know that you Reapers have been watching me since I was a little kid? That your fucking boss killed my mother because he was afraid of what might have happened had she had the chance to meet Aizen?"

Both paled, and the guilt was overshadowing the confusion on their faces enough that Ichigo sneered in sheer revulsion.

"You told me those things were the monsters, that I was doing the world a favour by killing them, but what makes you any better?"

"That's enough, son," Kurosaki Isshin spoke softly, his voice startling Ichigo and causing him to spin on his heel to face his father. Urahara stood behind him, both of them looking their ages for once. Tired, drained, and their usual mirth shadowed by old pain. "I think it's best if you all come inside."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not me.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Isshin and Kisuke try to explain why they've withheld the truth all these years, and what they need to do now that the Reapers are back in the picture.

A/N: Yep, things are moving along swiftly now. Do let me know what you think. I'm trying to keep the tension without giving in too fast, remember at this point Ichigo met Grimmjow and Ulquiorra six days ago. A lot has happened in that time, but it's really not that long of a time frame. Smut will happen eventually, just not yet. I have _waaay_ too much plot to wade through first.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Grimmjow returned home reluctantly once he'd left the Hunter. It felt wrong to leave him like that, as though he and Ulquiorra were abandoning him to his fate. That the Hunter wanted to do it, needed to even, was not the point. Ichigo was one of them now, and the protectiveness Grimmjow felt toward Ulquiorra – however unnecessary most of the time – was extended to the hybrid.

Wasn't that the irony of all ironies? Grimmjow couldn't help wondering why Aizen had wanted to father children with Ichigo's mother when she'd apparently already given birth to exactly the proof the ex-Reaper had sought? Time had been short, as Aizen's death had proven, so how would he have managed the nine month gestation period for a baby? The kid would have been even easier to kill to hide the evidence!

All of this was frustrating to think about and Grimmjow had never cared enough about this sort of thing to be good at it. Maybe Ulquiorra could clue him in on Aizen's big plan, though the werepanther was convinced the vampire hadn't known either. Gin and Tosen had been the ones Aizen confided in, his two fellow turncoats, perhaps Gin would enlighten them all.

The cave was dark when he arrived, Ulquiorra's scent strong enough to let Grimmjow know he was safely inside. Hopeful that there wasn't going to be another ceiling decoration, Grimmjow padded silently into their bedroom and sighed with relief. In the pitch-black of the space he could 'see' well enough with his sense of smell, dulled though it was in this human shape. On the bed there was a solid form which wafted scent in tiny waves, though Ulquiorra's personality was already gone for the day.

Quickly discarding his trousers, which were all that he'd been wearing, Grimmjow crawled into the cool sheets and wrapped himself around the dead thing he called his lover. Right now – while the sun was up – there was no sign of life, not unless Ulquiorra was willing to exert a great deal of energy to remain awake and aware, though even in this state he could react to any possible threat faster than most could evade him. No breath escaped cold lips, none of the muscle twitches that sleepers generally made happened as Grimmjow arranged them comfortably. No reaction at all. Grimmjow knew that Ulquiorra would unconsciously recognise his lover, and therefore his self-preservation instincts would ignore him, and eventually, in that state which simulated death, the vampire would return the embrace as though he were but a statue come to life. To others this might have seemed something out of a nightmare, but Grimmjow had lived with him for centuries. Had fought beside him, protected his daytime slumber, and donated his blood to keep him 'alive'. This was just the way the other Hollow was, what he'd been made once upon a time, and Grimmjow accepted it the way he accepted his own man-form.

Inhaling the familiar scent of fresh ginger and sweet vanilla, Grimmjow nuzzled close and drifted off to sleep, the back of his mind still alert.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

The fact he'd spent the past several days doing the jobs of three men, and then topped it off with hours of worrying over his own and Orihime's well-being, followed by cleansing a mountain-load of Nightbeasts, communing with the enemy, and rounding the night out with a confrontation between friends caught up to Ichigo as he waited for Urahara to finish messing around with the tea. Ichigo was so tired he could see multiples of everyone sitting around the room, and it was a real struggle not to simply pass out and let this wait until sometime around mid morning when he had a couple hours sleep under his belt.

Kurosaki Isshin sat in one of the clinic's desk chairs, his hands folded in his lap, and his eyes watching the three younger people in the room with a seriousness Ichigo was learning to respect. Rukia's arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes dark with suppressed annoyance and suspicion, while Renji fidgeted against the far wall, as though he wanted to pretend he wasn't really there.

Urahara Kisuke breezed into the reception room with a full tray, his ever-present hat askew on his head so that his grey eyes were mysteriously hidden in the shadowy recess under the brim. The shopkeeper set the tea caddy and cups down with a flourish, revealing a tiny selection of biscuits had been added to a saucer as though they were having an impromptu tea party instead of... whatever the hell was going on. Ichigo could only hope that an explanation was forthcoming soon, or he was fairly sure his temper was going to spill over and wake the entire building.

"The thing that gets me is that I knew about you," Ichigo stated blankly, eyes trained on Urahara as the man poured out the tea. "There were too many things that linked your 'tricks' to the Reaper's abilities."

The silence in the room shifted as everyone's attention turned to the exhausted young man.

"You've been training me, teaching me how to use the power I'd have probably killed myself with by now, but you couldn't even tell me that you're a Reaper," Ichigo accused quietly.

"Ex-Reaper," Urahara informed him calmly. The striped hat was repositioned, then Urahara handed over a cup of tea, and offered the saucer of biscuits. "I was banished from Seireitei nearly forty years ago, for participating in experiments they deemed too dangerous."

"Semantics. You're still essentially a Reaper," Ichigo selected an oblong of shortbread. It was going to take a while for his mind to accept that Urahara was old enough for that event to have happened so long ago, so he turned his attention to his father, "Him being a secretive bastard is one thing, but _you_, I can't understand how you could lie to your own family for over twenty years!"

"Don't take that tone with me, Ichigo. There are things you don't understand..."

"What, like my mother being something else entirely? Like the fact you neglected to tell me what I am, even once my abilities turned up and the Nightbeasts tried to kill my sisters? What about Karin and Yuzu, were you ever planning on telling them what they represent, and the danger they're in, just by being alive?" Ichigo was fairly seething, he had to set the cup and biscuit down before he threw one or the other in his father's stunned face.

"Ichigo, Isshin married your mother before he knew what she was," Urahara pointed out, having served everyone who wanted tea, he perched on the edge of a padded waiting chair. "Misaki didn't even know who she was, I've only put the pieces together in the past few years, once I realised why Aizen wanted her so badly. It was the second attempt on her capture when she died, and the cowards used you to get to her."

"I remember; I was twelve," Ichigo retorted. "I didn't know who or what those things were, but they didn't kill her, did they? It wasn't the Nightbeasts, it was the Reapers, and one in particular."

The shock on Urahara's face said it all, and Ichigo faltered, eyes swivelling toward his father. "You didn't know," he whispered, not understanding just yet what that meant.

"Reapers wouldn't have just killed an innocent human," Rukia sputtered indignantly, only for Isshin to shake his head and hold up a hand with an angry scowl to rival Ichigo's usual expression.

"No, she was innocent, but Misaki was the key to proving that they've been committing atrocities they have no right or justification for. Look at Ichigo; he's half Nightbeast and still human!" Kurosaki Isshin's voice held a conviction that was hard to deny. He believed what Gin had told Ichigo, too.

"They killed her, and left the blame with the Nightbeasts... the _Hollows_," Ichigo clarified. Then paused when everyone reacted to his words.

"Where did you hear that?" Urahara asked, sudden weariness and interest gleaming in his eyes. As though it were perfectly expected he could find out about his mother without discovering that Nightbeasts called themselves 'Hollows'.

Ichigo scratched at the back of his neck, stalling for time as he debated telling them what had happened, then decided he would have to give them at least part of the truth, "I met a man called Ichimaru Gin last night."

"Gin? I thought that traitor died in the War?" Renji stepped forward from where he'd been watching, and waiting. "That man was as dangerous as a snake, and twice as poisonous."

"He gave me the creeps," Rukia added with a shudder.

"Dangerous, yes, but if he told you Reapers killed your mother, then he was likely telling the truth," Urahara confirmed. "He was Aizen's favourite, the one he'd practically raised and twisted to his own purposes, but he was seldom a liar."

"Yeah, well I think Aizen had a point," Ichigo growled.

A sharp inhale drew his gaze to Rukia who was staring at him as though he'd just said he wanted to eat rat droppings. "Treason," she whispered.

"No, treason is telling a person you're defenders of the human race, when really you're glorified mercenaries intent on genocide," Ichigo grated out. "And you can't even call it that; we're all related; Hollows, Reapers, and humans. That's why my mother was so important, and why I've been treated like a threat instead of an ally from the start. I'm what they've been fearing all this time; what Aizen's Espada were supposed to be, and the proof that killing Hollows simply for being _Hollows_ is wrong."

"Hm," Urahara tilted his hat back so that his sharp gaze was clearly visible for once, "Someone _has_ been talking tonight."

"I don't care about that right now," Ichigo waved it away. Later he could shout and rave, and make the idiot apologise properly. "What's important is getting the girls to safety, because Rukia's right; Byakuya will find out about this, if he hasn't already, and even if _he's_ not a problem it will still get back to Seireitei. The entire family's at risk now."

Isshin sighed, the sound overly dramatic, but heartfelt. "Agreed. Unfortunately I can't just pack them off to be safe; Reapers are everywhere, son. The world is shrinking by the day, what with this new-fangled technology allowing us to travel from one side of the globe to the other in a matter of days. Instant communication isn't exclusive to the human race, either, and they will be in danger once Yamamoto knows for sure that they are a threat to the order he's created."

"Who's Yamamoto? Is he the old man Gin was talking about, the one in charge? If so, he's also the guy who killed Mom," Ichigo picked up the cup of cooling tea and knocked back the entire contents of the small cup. The need to sleep had faded, but it left him feeling shaky and dehydrated.

"Yamamoto wouldn't..." Rukia protested, only for Renji to take hold of her shoulders, his expression bleak. "You know he would. Or he'd send the second division to do it for him."

"So," Urahara clapped his hands together, his tone light and jovial, a smile on his face, "What happens next, kids?"

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The clinic would be remaining open only on emergency hours. All of their patients were to be sent over to the nearest hospital, or referred to other clinics. That Kurosaki Isshin would issue such orders drove home the point that something truly terrible was about to happen. The girls – when they'd arrived that morning to open the clinic – had been urged to stay with friends, and to trust no one, barely informed of what was happening. Karin had not wanted to go, and in the end it was Ichigo who talked her into listening to their father's hair-brained idea.

Rukia and Renji had left to find Byakuya, who they believed was nearby protecting the smaller villages in the area. He would need to be brought in, and his allegiances determined, but if he could be trusted he was welcome to stand with them when the inevitable happened and the Reapers turned up in force.

Ichigo paced the corridor outside Orihime's room, waiting as her things were gathered to be sent on to where she was currently set up at the big hospital. It was unusual, but on occasion a victim of the Change would Turn on the second night of the full moon, instead of the first. They were taking precautions, just in case. Ichigo didn't believe she was in any danger, however, as there had been no signs to indicate she was infected at all.

The biggest problem now was time, and planning. He'd not explained everything to the group, too tired to go into details about how and when he'd become acquainted with Hollows, let alone how he'd acquired his own Clan, and a small group of soldiers willing to join them.

Urahara was hiding a trick up his sleeve, too, though. The shopkeeper had murmured something about there being a secret weapon, and he knew where to find it. Then he'd disappeared, and no one had seen him since. If Isshin knew what Urahara was hiding, he didn't let on.

Chad exited the room, holding a cardboard box filled with magazines and sketching paper, and a small tote bag containing Orihime's spare clothes. He'd be taking them to her, and staying with her once again to make sure she was not alone if something unexpected happened. Ichigo had been against the idea, at first, adamant that if she Changed she was still Orihime, and entitled to live. As his father had pointed out, however, this was nothing more than appeasement for the local authorities; Orihime would be fine.

All of the goodbyes had been said already, so the two friends looked at each other silently. Then Chad nodded, a promise to look after their mutual friend, and he was turning away.

Ichigo watched him leave. That was the last of the patients finished with, the last string to be tied, now came the hard part; slipping out of the clinic unseen so he could let Grimmjow and the others know what was happening.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Excitement and nervousness warred throughout Ichigo's body and mind as he retraced his earlier footsteps. The forest looked completely different in the light of day. Caution made him take a winding route so he could check for a tail, but eventually he found himself standing by the log he'd been sitting on only hours before. The thick clump of blackberry bushes Grimmjow'd shown him tangled around themselves in the near distance, clearer to see in the dappled sunlight, though still fairly shadowed. What hadn't been as evident during the night was the bulky mound of dirt, grass and rock behind it. The trees had hidden it all too well.

Glancing around the area, and not seeing anyone, Ichigo decided to wait on the log, already knowing that it was a comfortable perch. He wasn't the most patient of people, but Grimmjow's warning was still echoing around his skull, reminding him that there were worse things than being rejected. Like being eaten for breakfast, say, by accident.

Not knowing how long it might take for the werepanther to figure out he was there, Ichigo found his mind wandering. It had been less than a week since he'd discovered how false his knowledge of the world was. For the second time. He'd gone from killing Nightbeasts to befriending them, fast enough it had left his head spinning.

His childhood had been ruined by the death of his mother a the hands of Nightbeasts. Of creatures who'd knocked him out cold in the initial skirmish, and the last memory he had of the kindest person he'd ever known was the sound of her screaming his name. There'd been so much pain and unbearable shame in _knowing _he'd failed to protect her. The only thing which had kept him going was knowing she'd sacrificed her chance to escape by staying with him, and she'd died for it. Ichigo had been on the path to becoming a Hunter long before he'd even known they existed, knowing that someone had to do something about it, if only to ensure that no one else's mother had to die to protect them.

Now he knew different.

Maturity had gained him a little clarity, and understanding when it came to judging people. Ichigo knew better than to tar all Reapers with the same brush. The mysterious Yamamoto had killed a woman to keep the status quo, and then laid the blame at other, innocent feet. What kind of coward did that? Blaming all Reapers for the mistakes of one would have been awfully hypocritical.

Byakuya and Rukia had both warned him that stepping out of line could sentence all of them to death, but Ichigo had been wondering about that, too. How could a good governing body be content with killing everyone associated with a single unwanted element, unless there was fear of contamination? It was conceivable that the leaders of Seireitei knew how thin a ledge they were dancing along. Had anyone ever tried to stand against them?

But he knew the answer to that one; yes. Aizen Sosuke.

Not that he'd had the best of luck in standing up for what he'd believed in, though Ichigo couldn't exactly agree with the man's methods if they involved kidnapping a mother and attempting to get between her and her lawful husband. What had actually happened, Ichigo was still unsure, and he hoped Grimmjow, or possibly Gin would let him in on the big secret.

It just meant one thing as far as Ichigo was concerned; there was already a precedent to breaking with Seireitei. Winning or losing that battle was unimportant. Just knowing that there could be others who'd stand up for the right cause, who might be prepared to kill if needs be, not for mindless slaughter, but with a greater purpose. To protect the innocent, be they human, Reaper, or even Hollow.

Change had to happen, or everything Ichigo cared for, and what his mother had died for, would be lost.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Movement, sound, and some altogether delicious scent woke Grimmjow from pleasant dreams of ripping the heads off small animals and tearing into their soft underbellies. If anyone had been watching him closely they'd have never noticed the change between sleeping and alert. There was no hitch in his breathing, no flickering of an eyelid, but then Grimmjow was a predator first and foremost; being undetectable was the first rule of attack.

It took only seconds for his sleepy mind to place that spiced strawberry scent, and then he was slowly prying himself out of Ulquiorra's vice-like arms. Sometime during the last few hours the vampire's body temperature had risen until it was comfortably similar to Grimmjow's own, and he'd curled himself around the werepanther until they resembled a couple of snakes during mating season. With practised ease Grimmjow untangled himself and made his way outside.

The sound of birds in the trees, and rushing water from the nearby river drowned out the barely-there rustle of Grimmjow's footsteps. This early in the day he wasn't at his stealthiest, but it didn't seem that the Hunter's instincts were all that finely tuned, anyway, and Grimmjow was practically upon him before the other noticed his presence.

Ichigo was sitting in almost the same place he'd been in the night before, only this time the sunlight was setting his hair alight with colour. The vivid orange was like a beacon Grimmjow couldn't ignore, not that he'd intended to. What could have possibly made the young hybrid return so soon? Had he argued with the Reapers? His father? The expressive brown eyes were not facing Grimmjow's way, so he couldn't see the emotion there, but the downturn of those pouting lips and the deep 'V' of his eyebrows suggested something unpleasant had happened.

The feline side of Grimmjow's nature was never that far from the surface, but after that dream of hunting and killing prey it was closer than usual. For that reason alone he pounced the unsuspecting young man, and nearly toppled them from the log in the process.

"What the?" Ichigo compensated quickly to the addition of another's bodyweight and momentum. He'd already been half-straddling the long, so it was easy enough to finish the job and grip with his legs, but his upper body fell backward, his head _thunk_ing into the wood as he struck, Grimmjow grinned down at him with bared teeth.

Grimmjow was fairly impressed with the other's speed, but the fact he'd left himself wide open to attack was worrying. They'd have to work on that.

"Found ya," Grimmjow growled out playfully, enjoying the look in those wide brown eyes. There was surprise, and a touch of uncertainty, but mostly Grimmjow was fascinated by the flair of lust. Head dipped low to draw in a lungful of Ichigo's scent, the werepanther practically purred at the heady scent of male musk, and Ichigo's spicy sweet natural odour – personally Grimmjow's favourite combination – with something a little extra that had to be his hybrid genetics.

Grimmjow wanted to roll in that scent, painting himself in it so he'd catch whiffs of it throughout the day the way he did with Ulquiorra's. But marking himself served a duel purpose; in collecting Ichigo's scent he'd also be coating the younger male in his own.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ichigo asked, voice low and strained.

Grimmjow arched an eyebrow curiously, "Like what?"

"Like you want to take a bite out of me," Ichigo's reply was rushed and nearly unintelligible. Brown eyes darted to the side, a light blush forming over the fine cheekbones as though he'd asked something far more intimate, annoyed frown in place as though it would hide the pink tint.

Ichigo was practically begging to be teased and tormented, and it lit up practically every sadistic bone in Grimmjow's body to see it. "Maybe 'cause I do?" the werepanther waggled his eyebrows suggestively, loving the innocence and embarrassment he was observing. He snapped his teeth together a few inches from Ichigo's face just to watch him flinch and gasp.

Ichigo shoved him back, and Grimmjow debated resisting, but decided against it; there was no sense in scaring the kid off before they got to do anything interesting. They'd never been completely alone like this before, without fear of being discovered, and Grimmjow couldn't help but want to take advantage of the situation. Therefore he licked Ichigo's nose, delighting in the grossed out sounds the guy made, before Grimmjow sat up, though he didn't move from between Ichigo's spread legs. He kind of liked the position.

"So ya probably got a reason fer wakin' me up," Grimmjow stated as a distraction. It worked beautifully, too. Ichigo propped himself with his arms, as though uncomfortable with being in a submissive pose. The determined glint once more sharpening his gaze. Under it he looked tired, though, and Grimmjow doubted he'd had time for sleep.

"Ah, yeah," Ichigo nodded several times, apparently lost for words. Then seemed to gather himself, "Turns out my entire family's in danger now. I'm not sure what Urahara's up to, but he's got some sort of secret weapon he wants to use, and my old man's going to help. I don't know what's going to happen, or how fast things are going to escalate. I thought you should know."

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo in silence as he absorbed this information. The Reapers were not just going to let them walk away, not after trying to eradicate the problem by killing Aizen's key evidence, and having failed so spectacularly. It was unbelievable that he was being offered this chance for the second time now, but the werepanther was more than willing to jump into the fray again.

Knowing the grin on his face made him look insane, and not giving a shit, Grimmjow leaned into Ichigo's warmth. He was tempted to kiss him, but refrained.

"There's some people ya need ta meet."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo swallowed, all too aware of their proximity, and that gleam of hunger in the werepanther's eyes. A sane man would escape as quickly as possible from this dangerous creature, but the hunger didn't make Ichigo want to run away. It made him want to arch into Grimmjow's warmth. To reach out and touch that incredible body. He wanted to run his fingers through that amazing blue hair, and find out if it was as soft as it looked. It was almost a need, and resisting was painfully difficult. He craved – more than anything else – to feel Grimmjow's weight above him again, pinning him. To have the werepanther's sole attention in the way his sinful voice and devilish eyes promised would be obscenely pleasurable.

Unfortunately there were far more important things to be done right now, and though he was very sure Grimmjow wouldn't react negatively to his advances – Grimmjow had more than proved his interest – Ichigo forced himself to ignore the urge.

"Who do you have in mind?" Ichigo wondered aloud, then added eagerly, "Does this have anything to do with the Espada?"

Grimmjow barked out a laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo's spine. There was pure, unadulterated joy in that sound and it made Ichigo grin in return.

"Oh yeah," the werepanther crooned, "the Espada have been _dyin'_ ta get a little revenge on those bastards fer what they've done." Blue eyes danced with excitement as Grimmjow stood up to leave, only to glance back over his shoulder in all seriousness, "An' ya need ta learn how ta use that power of yers."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, I've just been a naughty girl and tempted them away for a little bit of fun.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Ichigo learns something about what it means to be other than a Reaper, Hunter, or Hollow. New introductions, and a few more questions are answered.

_A/N: I'd just like to clear a little something up. Someone has asked a few questions that I can't answer through private messaging, but I was wondering if anyone else was feeling a little confused about these issues as well. I will therefore (hopefully) clarify in my public reply to Doomy-Chan on ff;_

_This IS a Grimmjow/Ichigo/Ulquiorra threesome fic. There is an established pairing between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra at the beginning, which will eventually lead to the inclusion of Ichigo, not just into their 'clan' but the sexual relationship as well. I am aware of how semi-stilted and boring the smut scene between Grimm and Ulqui came across, but that was entirely intentional._

_As to the alpha and beta thing... I don't remember this particular fic having that theme, though I'm working (very slowly) on a one-shot that does. Starrk is Alpha as it's a common term for leader of the Pack._

_Also, the huge gap between published and update dates is due to several factors, which unfortunately led to my being unable to post for around four months. I moved house over Christmas, spent a good deal of time bouncing between my sister's (net access available) and my son's nan's house (no net). I moved into a new build, which had no internet for ages. We had a construction site instead of a road out the front for six weeks, and in some cases we still don't exist on company computer systems! Added to this we have a special needs child in the house who FINALLY got shifted out of mainstream school. It's all been very frustrating and time consuming._

_I'm back online now, and striving to meet a Wednesday update target every week, and hopeful that it will continue that way until this fic is complete._

_Thank you so much for your review. I do appreciate each and every one, and the more detailed the better as I've mentioned to a few reviewers before; it helps me know what works and what doesn't when people tell me what they really think. And just as a general thing, I like constructive criticism. Without it I'd be flying in the dark... without Ulqui's unique talent!_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichimaru Gin made his way through the entrance tunnels to Szayel Aporro Ganz' underground facilities with the ease of one who'd helped design them. The uniform white walls twisted in some places and opened into forked junctions in others that could lead the unwary into pre-set, and vicious traps, or simply allow them to go around and around in circular patterns until the poor trespasser was dreadfully lost. In the eight years since the place had been completed Szayel had only acquired one experiment from the process, but Gin enjoyed toying with the controls that allowed the walls to move around, making the already difficult to manoeuvre passages even more so.

There was a method to the madness, however, just like with a maze the tunnels could be navigated no matter how impossible it appeared, but he wasn't giving that information away to just anyone. Not even the sexta, who followed him now with the Reaper-Hollow hybrid.

Finding the pair of them waiting at one of Szayel's many observation towers had been a welcome surprise, and one that Szayel was going to find extremely interesting. Gin's smirk widened. It was going to be fun to see how the introduction went between them, considering Grimmjow's over protective behaviour the night before. Gin himself might like to be the cause of others squirming uncomfortably, but Szayel tended to forget his own humanity altogether, lost as he usually was in his scientific mind.

It gave people the creeps, much like Gin's smile tended to do, and with good reason.

Almost humming to himself, Gin stepped into the section of tunnels which never changed, quickly switching direction and heading toward the main laboratory where Szayel spent most of his days, and a goodly portion of his nights. They both suffered from ghastly bouts of insomnia, though for completely different reasons, and Gin had idled away many a night in the vaguely antiseptic-smelling room watching as the pink haired Hollow mixed chemicals or took notes on whatever held his fancy at the time.

A small Hollow resembling an egg on spindly insect legs waddled past with a low squeaking sound, multiple sets of eyes looking around in all directions, and completely independent from one another. It cast a curious gaze at the two strangers trailing the ex-Reaper, and spared three eyes for Gin himself, but didn't pause in it's journey. Probably best not to interrupt one of Szayel's minions (a term only Gin used to describe the bumbling creations Szayel called his Fraccion) there'd be plenty of time for that sort of amusement later.

The heavy tread of the newest member of Ulquiorra's clan, combined with the purple bruising under the boy's eyes, said he'd not slept since last they met. Gin couldn't help but wonder why that might be, though he had a few ideas.

Kurosaki Isshin, though Gin'd spent several months observing the man's wife and children, was a relatively unknown element. What Gin remembered was not particularly flattering even when you took into account the fact he'd seen right through that ridiculous act to the intelligence behind it. The man cared for his children, and he'd loved his wife, but other than dedicating his time to perfecting his performance he wasn't interesting in the slightest.

Urahara was another matter entirely and one Gin was all too familiar with. The other ex-Reaper had fled Seireitei once Aizen had laid the blame for his own early experiments to create hybrids at the man's feet. Urahara hadn't even attempted to fight against the accusations thrown his way. But Gin was not fooled; Urahara wasn't a coward, and hadn't run from the possibility of a fight. The verifiable genius had been playing for time, and just hadn't cared how guilty it made him look.

Urahara Kisuke was dangerous, and crafty, and just the kind of man Gin admired. Just like Aizen.

Gin had been at Aizen's side since he was first brought into the ranks of Seireitei's armed forces, otherwise known as the Reapers. The Reapers had been split into thirteen squads, which were each commanded by a Captain, and the Captains were the most powerful, and capable of the Reapers, lead by Yamomoto himself, who was so old no one could remember exactly when he'd become Head Captain, but neither did they question it.

Until Aizen.

Aizen was ambitious. He didn't just want to control Seireitei, he wanted to rule the entire world, and his attempts to find the knowledge to do just that was what had led him to the discovery that they all descended from one human bloodline. The rest, as they say, was history. Gin had been a child genius, outdoing his predecessor with little effort. Unfortunately his intelligence seemed to come at the price of friendship. It wasn't that Gin was lonely, but he wanted to be respected, and he couldn't understand why people hated him so much.

That was when Gin started people-watching with a vengence, a hobby that had coloured many a dull day, and kept him endlessly amused.

Aizen had accepted Gin just as he was, and had offered his guidance to the young Reaper as he learned the ins and outs of his duties. Gin had appreciated it, and followed the other into exile several years later alongside Tosen a fellow Captain because he'd believed in Aizen's cause, though perhaps not for the same reasons as one might expect. Tosen had been all about the injustices in the world that needed to be corrected, the way Aizen was about becoming a god, and ruling everyone. Gin had merely followed the interesting developments with child-like enthusiasm.

Ulquiorra had been an unexpected acquisition, one of the earlier recruits to Aizen's army, and devoted to the would be god in a way that bordered on fanatical. It had been deliberate on Aizen's part to bring the vampire close and to encourage the rivalry that developed between both Gin and Ulquiorra.

Gin wasn't truly the jealous type, and didn't mind sharing Aizen's attention, but what was the harm in playing to the tune of a man who'd taken him under his wing, and shown him the only real affection Gin had ever known? It wasn't that Ulquiorra was emotionless either so much as he constantly controlled himself, which had fascinated Gin no end. Well, fascinated was one way of describing that terrible urge to poke the vampire until he let slip some of the emotion he'd rather pretend he didn't have, and if it entertained Aizen at the same time? Bonus.

Ulquiorra had been annoyed, and his pet werepanther had stalked around the place growling and flashing fangs at everyone because of it, but it had been worth it to see the gleam of amusement in Aizen's expression whenever one of their little spats resulted in subdued mayhem.

It was very likely that the information Gin had fed Ichigo the night before had sent the boy back to town and straight into a confrontation with one, if not both of the ex-Reapers living there. If so, it would explain both his and Grimmjow's presence here in Szayel's territory, as Gin had deliberately given his offer of help just in case his prediction of Urahara's willingness to stand up and fight came to pass.

"Here ya go!" Gin spoke happily as he swung the Lab door open, though he kept his tone light and respectful. The fun was only just about to begin.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo was swaying on his feet by the time Gin finally paused before a set of double doors. He turned to them with a bright smile that nevertheless sent cold shivers throughout Ichigo's body. They'd arrived at long last, but exactly why they were there Grimmjow had yet to explain, other than the need to meet with the Hollows' only real scientific mind. Or so Ichigo'd been told. What exactly the man might be more precisely which type of Nightbeast he was had yet to be disclosed.

It was all too much for Ichigo's tired mind to take in, or decipher, and as the door opened with a flourish, Ichigo's sight turned grey, and the world tilted sideways.

The last thing he was aware of was the feel of something catching him just before he hit the floor.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Maybe he should have demanded the kid took an hour or so to rest before heading into Szayel's territory, but Grimmjow was never one so sit idly by. Unfortunately he'd not taken into account how oddly fragile his newest clan-mate was, nor had he anticipated the fact that Ichigo wouldn't complain, and would in fact wait until he collapsed before admitting he needed to rest.

That kind of stubbornness was going to serve him well in the future if things descended into war as Grimmjow suspected they would. Right now it was more of a hindrance as Grimmjow didn't trust the combination of Szayel and Gin at his back for very long, and Ichigo's safety was now his primary concern. If Ulquiorra was here which he would have been had Grimmjow bothered to wait until the sun had set it wouldn't have been a problem. Luckily Grimmjow had some experience being one of only two trusted allies in a room full of potential enemies, thanks to long years of only himself and Ulquiorra to worry about.

He wasn't going to think about the time before that, and what he'd lost.

Having scooped the young man into his arms, and used his foot to keep the door open despite Gin's unobtrusive attempt to help him Grimmjow glanced around for somewhere safe to deposit his cargo. There were rows of shelving, and tables that looked something like the ones Aizen had once used. All shiny metal with removable restraints, and little drainage trays to collect the run-off, whatever that might be at the time.

The closest one was empty, dry, and unstained. Grimmjow eyed it's position, debating whether he could defend a prone figure on it for any length of time, and finally set Ichigo down. It wasn't very warm, and the craziest of madmen called this place his own, but Grimmjow figured it would do for the minute.

Then he turned to meet the golden gaze which had settled on him. The effeminate man had been speaking the entire time, but Grimmjow had taken no notice. Szayel Aporro Granz glared at him from behind white-rimmed glasses, his pink hair a colour natural only to flowers sliding forward to frame his face, and particularly the thinly-pressed lips.

"Is that a new specimen?" Szayel asked indifferently.

Grimmjow growled in annoyance, as the other sniffed in disdain at his behaviour. "No he fucking isn't. Ya must have some inklin' by now as ta who this is."

Szayel's lips twitched at the accusation, proving Grimmjow's words to be true. How exasperating that the man had to be contrary just for the sake of it? Szayel was almost as bad as Gin in that department.

"Is there a reason the hybrid's unconscious? Nerves? Some sort of disorder, or illness I might need to take a closer look at?" One delicate pink brow arched in question, just for a moment, and then Szayel turned around and stalked over to a line of glass vials. "I expect he's at least partially dehydrated, from the looks of him, and probably exhausted himself with all this."

"Maybe," Grimmjow conceded, aware that Szayel might be a strange individual who'd stab just about anyone in the back to get what he wanted, but he was a damned fine doctor. When he kept to healing and didn't go altering anything just for his own entertainment.

"This is basically a stimulant," Szayel informed a frowning Grimmjow as he held out a pink and blue pill alongside a vial of yellowish liquid, "The substance in here will rehydrate him roughly four times as efficiently as water alone."

"I'm not giving him some weird concoction you've created, I remember how ill ya made me when I had my arm reattached!"

"That was a perfectly understandable mistake, considering I'd never operated on a werepanther before. I wasn't to know you'd have an adverse reaction to that anaesthetic," Szayel retorted with a light huff of irritation.

"Yeah, and you don't know how that stuff is going to mess with his biology, either!" Grimmjow lowered his voice into an annoyed, accusing growl, warning him to shut up.

"Well, I guess we's gotta wait a li'l while ta talk wit Ichi," Gin interrupted, before things could escalate any further.

Grimmjow redirected his attention to the silvery-haired ex Reaper. "Don't call 'im that, he doesn't like it."

"He's an underwhelming example of... well anything, isn't he?" Szayel pushed his glasses back up his nose, golden eyes roaming over Ichigo's vulnerable form with a speculative gleam. Either ignoring or not caring how insensitive he sounded. "Are you quite sure he's what you thought he was?" That last was directed at Gin, who nodded and grinned wider.

"Aizen was sure a it, an' tha' a stronger Reaper woulda had an even more powerful result," Gin moved between the table and Szayel, effectively acting as a buffer between the other two men.

"The Reapers aren't trainin' him right," Grimmjow interjected, still bitter over that fact. Everyone should have the chance to learn important skills like self-preservation. That Ichigo had been left so unguarded, and ignorant stank of intentional neglect.

"I assume you planned to use the facilities on the next level?" At Grimmjow's nod the pink-haired scientist tutted, gaze dropping to the vial he was twiddling with in his hand. "Considering what little I was able to piece together using Aizen's cryptic notes, and what he let slip during those years he was working with us, Ichigo has almost unlimited potential. I'm just not convinced he'll be able to tap into that power if he's so cut off from it as to pass out like this."

"He had a rough night," Grimmjow defended, slightly confused as his rational mind locked on to that thought. "I've felt the strength of his reiatsu and I'd have said he could easily take Starrk, if he knew how to fight."

"Which is all well and good, but without understanding how to use his potential he's like a baby throwing it's weight around, only he'd capable of levelling the building over our heads."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo woke to the sound of voices. Grimmjow's was strangely familiar, and a pleasant surprise after the past week of waking to the memory of his eyes and often Ulquiorra's as well but finding himself alone when the dream wore off.

Then his brain caught up with the conversation going on over his head. Something about his powers not being utilised to their full potential, and Grimmjow trying to stand up for him. Warmth suffused his cheeks at the protectiveness of Grimmjow's statement. Then Ichigo frowned at the next comment.

He -Ichigo- could fight Starrk on even footing? _Beat_ him even? How? The werewolf was so insanely powerful he'd made Ichigo feel like a weakling when they'd first met.

Before Ichigo could fully comprehend that idea, a condescending tone cut the air, deriding Ichigo's abilities and basically calling him a hazard to everyone around him. Bristling at the insult, Ichigo turned his head and squinted against the bright light at the source of that voice. He blinked, temporarily stunned stupid. Surely not. Pink? What kind of man wanted to be seen with _pink _hair?

There was movement to the side, and Ichigo turned to look up at Grimmjow, who somehow managed to give the impression he was watching everyone in the room at once. Feeling strangely calm with the werepanther so close to him, Ichigo closed his eyes again, and suppressed a groan as he remembered why he was laying down in the middle of this conversation. How embarrassing! He'd passed out like a freaking _girl_.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Ichigo sat up, legs dangling off the _autopsy table_ he was occupying. It was hard to think about things like food, but he met that strange golden gaze with determination. Maybe he hadn't given the best impression of his worth and abilities, but he'd be damned if he acted any more the damsel in distress.

"Sometime around dawn, but it was only a cup of tea and a biscuit, before that was yesterday afternoon; late lunch," Ichigo shrugged. He should have thought of that. So much for being a doctor's intern, he couldn't even look after himself.

"Gin?" The pink-haired Hollow made the ex-Reaper's name sound like a question, and Ichigo watched as Gin nodded and disappeared through a set of swinging doors. "While he goes to find something suitable to restore you, do you mind if I examine you?"

Grimmjow growled, the sound all animal. Ichigo held up a hand to stall the warning he could practically feel coming, and shook his head. "No need, I'm fine. I was stupid to forget to eat when I haven't slept in so long. I'll be fine once I've had a chance to lay down."

"Very well," the man huffed, "I'm Szayel Aporro Granz." There was no offer of a hand shake.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Might I enquire why you've both dropped in on me so unexpectedly? I was in the middle of an experiment," Szayel informed them drily.

"Yeah, there's another war on the horizon," Grimmjow stated with enthusiasm. Ichigo frowned over one shoulder at him, then slid off the autopsy table. Not only was it cold, it was giving him the creeps.

"Would that be an actual war, or just the Reapers trying to pick up where they left off last time?" Szayel's tone implied that either way he was going to be put out.

"It's only a matter of time before they realise what I am," Ichigo was resigned to this fact, though he didn't have to like it.

"I'm not so sure they don't already. If they're refusing to properly train you, and kept you under quarantine, it's only logical to assume they see you as dangerous and haven't yet decided what to do with you," Szayel pushed his glasses up his nose, and stared at Ichigo. The look made the Hunter extremely uncomfortable.

Gin chose that moment to return carrying a steaming plastic pot of convenience-store Ramen and a can of chilled green tea. Food had arrived.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Wow," Ichigo glanced around with wide eyes. They were on the second subterranean level of Szayel's underground facility, Gin leading the way as they entered a huge space he'd been assured was designed to withstand Espada training. Though there was some doubt as to whether it would manage someone as powerful as Stark if he chose to really let rip.

The walls were made of some sort of metal compound, with removable panelling, so it would be easier to replace damaged sections. There were varying types of equipment which could be moved into the room, too, but they weren't here to play with reinforced punching bags. Grimmjow wanted to fight using swords.

Which made no sense, unless Grimmjow was going to have him face off against Gin.

Maybe Grimmjow was counting on his armour in his werepanther form to protect him from Zangetsu's keen edge, but Ichigo was not so convinced.

"Get your sword out," Grimmjow ordered.

Ichigo frowned, glanced around, and then at Grimmjow only to see the werepanther grinning insanely, _and casually holding a slender sword in one hand_. Gaping, he was nearly too slow to duck out of the way when Grimmjow then took a swipe at him.

"Oi! You could have cut my head off!" Ichigo spluttered indignantly.

"So stop stalling and get serious already," Grimmjow grumbled, again attacking without warning.

Having been in enough mock fights with Urahara to recognise that Grimmjow did actually know what he was doing and that this was barely even a warm-up Ichigo summoned Zangetsu. The two swords clashed with an arm-jarring jolt, the sound ringing loudly in the air and echoing strangely from the metal walls. Ichigo ducked another blow and quickly took advantage of Grimmjow's slight overreaching. "How do you have a soul sword?"

"Che, yer an idiot if ya ain't worked that out yet, Kurosaki, and it's called a zanpakuto," Grimmjow's grin was nearly splitting his face in two as he gracefully stepped aside from another attack.

"Aizen was combining Hollow and Reaper, I get that, but I didn't know you could summon a zanpakuto" Ichigo stumbled over the word, then leapt backwards and barely got Zangetsu up in time to stop his arm being removed at the shoulder. It was almost as though Grimmjow was trying to kill him for real!

"Come on, Ichi," Grimmjow taunted, "Put some effort into it, yer not even tryin' ta fight me!"

"I _am_ trying!"

"'Xcuse me?" Gin held up a hand but was ignored.

"Then damned well _hit_ me," Grimmjow growled back in exasperation.

There was a sudden blast of reiatsu accompanied by a bright light. Both combatants stalled in their attacks as they threw up an arm to protect their eyes.

"What the fuck?"

"Gin, do that again and I'm kicking _your_ ass!" Grimmjow snarled out almost simultaneously.

"S'okay, I jus' wanna say sumthin'," Gin walked closer, both hands hidden in the folds of his robe, eyes practically closed. "Urahara's not stupid, if he's been trainin' Ichigo, it's not technique ya gatta teach him, Grimm. Ya need to get him ta tap inta his Hollow side."

"You call that technique? He was slashing at me like a madman!" Ichigo grumbled, glaring at the pair of them.

"Ichigo," Gin waited until Ichigo met his gaze then drew a hand from the opposite sleeve, "Dodge this."

There was a vacuum, something only part of Ichigo's confused mind registered before he realised the man was fucking _shooting _at him! Another explosion of power, of the reiatsu that Ichigo had always thought of as a person's aura. The energy of all living things. It gathered in the palm of Gins hand so rapidly it made the air move, then Ichigo was suddenly aware of a release of some kind that sent that ball of faintly glowing power right at him.

There was no chance to dodge, and with it hurtling at him so fast he was stuck for ideas on how to counter it, but he didn't have the time to think about it, either. Ichigo managed to get his left arm up to guard his face, terrified that that thing was going to blow his head off the way he'd seen Urahara's spells decimate rock, only something strange happened when the edges of power met his own.

Ichigo could have sworn time slowed down, because he suddenly had all the time in the world to feel the two energies, his own aura, and Gin's created power-ball touch, press against each other and the slow build up in pressure. There was that same sense he'd had a few times when he'd taken a particularly strong blow to the head; slightly spacey, and not altogether there. As the pressure built he could vaguely hear a roaring sound, but he wasn't sure what it was, or why he cared with his too realistic possibility of death staring him in the eye.

No. There were people depending on him. Ichigo thought about his sisters, their faces so clear in his mind. His father, too. There was Chad, and Orihime who'd already been injured, and he'd been unable to help her. The entirety of Karakura Town needed someone to protect them, but who stood up for the Hollows? Who protected, not on merit of accident of birth, but intent? If he died here and now nothing would change. The Reapers would eventually kill his family, the Hollows would continue to fight in a war they couldn't win. Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, Starrk and his Pack, Gin and Szayel, they'd all eventually fall. Everything would be for nothing. Kurosaki Misaki would have died to keep the ignorance going.

Kurosaki Ichigo couldn't die and let everyone down, he felt it in the core of his being.

All of this happened in the time it took for the two powers to meet, and before the pressure burst and Gin's reiatsu-charged spell could push through his natural defences, Ichigo retaliated. He understood basic physics well enough to know that two apposing waves cancelled each other out, and that every action had an equal and opposite reaction. What he didn't think about, or calculate was the sheer amount of raw power he'd kept hidden inside of himself and from himself. That his aura had been suppressed so he could move around almost undetectable, he'd known, but it hadn't been something he'd done on purpose. Instinct had played it's part in that, too. Now it unfolded as everything he had access to pushed back against a spell that was never intended to do much of anything.

The resulting explosion scattered them around the room, loosened panels falling from the walls and power fizzling in cracks and over fabric like static electricity.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, I just like the way they look when I bloody them up a bit. ^_^

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Ichigo's powers pose a bit of a problem that Szayel might have an answer for. Ichigo also gets to meet a collection of the elusive Espada he was so excited about.

_**A/N: **I know, I'm posting this a day early._

_**It has come to my attention that FFnet are purging fics and entire accounts (without warning) for having mature content, therefore I would like to point out that I post not only on FFnet, but LiveJournal too. I refuse to change the content of my fics because a bunch of kids are too stupid to follow the warnings which state, quite bluntly, that my stories are sexually explicit. While I will admit that this particular fic is more than just smut, the same can not be said about everything I write (just check out my Let Dai one if you need proof). I would therefore like to redirect anyone (over the age of consent in your given country, of course) looking to keep up with Blurring Boundaries (should the worse come to pass and FFnet deletes this account) to my open-post LJ at jakondas[dot]livejournal[dot]com (just remove the '[dot]' and replace with a period {full stop if you're English})**__** make a note of it, friend me over there, or whatever (I don't bite, much), or just ignore my paranoia. Thanks for reading my story, and I hope to see you all again!**_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The concussion wave threw Grimmjow several feet before his feline agility kicked in. He twisted his body in mid-air, and landed in a crouch on all fours, the damaged floor-tiles hardly even made a sound. Not that it mattered, or that he could even tell as the booming thunder of Ichigo's incredible response to a simple kido spell had yet to finish ringing in his ears.

What. The. Hell. Was _that_? And could he do it again?

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking 'bout!" Grimmjow grinned manically, eyes glowing with pleasure and interest as he searched out Ichigo's gaze. Only the Hunter was staring wide-eyed at his hands as though he'd never seen them before.

"Wha' zactly did ya do?" Gin asked in wonder, both eyes open in his surprise. The icy blue startling in its intensity.

"I believe the term would be 'overkill'," drawled a familiar voice, and Grimmjow glanced over to find Starrk had crept up on them. The Alpha werewolf leant against the door frame in a little pool of calm that was shattered as Lilynette and Nelliel – a combination which should never be allowed to happen – bundled through the door and launched themselves over the intervening space onto Grimmjow, who barely reacted in time.

"Grimm!" Nelliel exclaimed, hazel eyes huge and full of warmth. "I couldn't believe it when Szayel said you were down here. Is this Ichigo? Did he do all this?"

"Are we going to get to play with the stray Reaper-thing?" Lily added, almost talking over the older Hollow.

"Tha's rude, don'cha think?" Gin asked, eyes closed once more and smiling away as he watched Grimmjow get practically buried under both females.

The young werewolf turned innocent eyes on Gin, "Well what else we supposed to call him?"

"How about Ichigo? It's my name, you know," came the disgruntled muttering from the man himself. He didn't look or sound pleased at the situation, and Grimmjow was vaguely amused by the jealously he thought he saw glimmering in warm brown eyes as Ichigo glared at the girls who were clinging to Grimmjow like he was their favourite teddy. It was almost worth the torture to see that look. Almost.

"You turned up fast," Grimmjow said casually to Starrk, changing the subject as he pushed everyone off. "I thought for sure we'd be waiting another couple hours for you to crawl outta bed."

Starrk shrugged, eyes already hooded as though he were thinking of napping right where he stood. "I had business with Szayel, who tells me we might be having a few uninvited guests soon."

"Pesky Reapers never know when ta keep their noses out," Grimmjow confirmed. "But we need ta prepare the new recruit before the shit hits the fan, ya know?"

"My style isn't suited to that," Starrk pointed out.

"I dunno, he reacts well ta perceived danger," Gin grinned impishly.

Grimmjow growled in remembrance. The damned fox was lucky nothing bad had happened to Ichigo when he'd taken it upon himself to attack him so unexpectedly. No one was allowed to be reckless with his... clan-mates. No one _else_ in any case.

"I noticed he's got the strength to back up his brash behaviour, but he doesn't seem to know how to use it," Starrk commented, lazy gaze contemplating Ichigo who'd stood up again and was brushing the dust from his trousers.

"I'm not fast enough," Ichigo grumbled with an annoyed glare.

"No, it's more'n that," Gin inserted.

"What then? You guys can move so fast I can't even see you!"

"You're fighting with your head," Nelliel stepped forward, one hand out to lightly touch fingers to Ichigo's temples, then dropped to dust over his eyelids. "And using your eyes can blind you to what's really happening."

"Yeah, it's all about heart, ain't that right Starrk?" Lilynette added solemnly.

"Something like that," the elder werewolf nodded, then stepped away from the wall. Bluey-grey eyes roved over Ichigo's face, looked to Grimmjow as though in question at his silence, then flicked back. "You need to find what drives you to fight."

"I already know what that is," Ichigo stood straighter.

There was something beautiful about the sudden defiance. Ichigo met that piercing gaze directly, and without fear. A challenge. There was an irrational pride growing in Grimmjow's mind, just from knowing that this creature was his. Not that Ichigo would likely understand that fact, yet, but the werepanther had high hopes for all three of them – Ulquiorra included – in the future.

"So use it," Starrk tilted his head to one side, "Or are you scared of the potential you have inside of you?"

"I'm not scared, just not sure of what I'm doing. You see what happened here? The first time I summoned Zangetsu I made a crater with just a single swing, but I haven't been able to repeat it," Ichigo huffed, one hand rising to rub the back of his neck. "Urahara told me it was like a one-off, something that happens when power is tapped for the first time, like an explosion of untamed energy, but then you learn to harness it. Only I have Zangetsu, I can call him whenever I want to, but he's just a sword. Nothing fancy, not like Benihime, Sode no Shirayuki, or Zabimaru. I can't get him to change form, or _do _anything."

"'Ave ya ask 'im why?" Gin wanted to know.

Ichigo frowned, then glanced down at his over-sized sword in confusion. "I know he's supposed to have a voice and all that, but I can't hear him."

"There's ya problem," Gin smiled, but it was cruel expression with nothing remotely friendly in it. It was the kind of smile a snake might give before it devoured it's prey.

"So we need to get Ichigo talking to Zangetsu?" Nelliel plonked herself on the ground in front of the hybrid, her eyes huge and innocent as she thought about the problem.

"I say we trigger him and be done with it," Szayel called out from the doorway. By the way everyone reacted only Gin had even realised he as there. Sneaky bastard. "I have been working on a serum..."

"No. No freaky shit from your labs," Grimmjow swiped both hands out in a cross and dropped them again. "I want my clan in one piece, if it's all the same to you?"

"There's another way, but it won't be easy," Starrk somehow managed to get onto the floor and appear like it was comfortable without looking awkward doing it. Grimmjow frowned at him, not overjoyed by the possibilities Starrk was putting forth.

"So you basically want to scare the crap outta him, make him vamp out, or whatever the fuck he's gonna do, and hope we can contain him long enough for him to figure shit out on his own?" Grimmjow asked, just to make sure everyone – including Ichigo – was aware of the suggested situation.

"What's the difference?" Ichigo asked sounding annoyed.

Grimmjow snorted in amusement, "You might survive the second idea."

"Might!"

"Accidents happen," Starrk waved a hand in the air like it was only to be expected. "I'm sure we've got this end, but you're going to have to win your own battle either way."

"I don't understand any of this," Ichigo ground out, flinching back when Nelliel tried to grab his leg.

"We're going to make it so you can talk to your sword, silly. But it's dangerous, 'cause it means we'll be releasing your true form," she explained patiently.

"This isn't my true form?" Orange brows met in the middle of Ichigo's forehead at the thought. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, irritated with all the talking. He'd felt the wave of power Ichigo had released for only a split-second in response to Gin's attack, what they were planning on doing was going to be a whole hell of a lot worse.

"Look, ye've got a choice; we can leave ya as ya are, an' we lose. _Or_ we can let yer inner Hollow out ta play, an' give ya a chance figure out how ta control yer powers – while trying ta stop ya from acc'dentally killin' all a us an' prol'ly attackin' Karakura Town," Gin interjected before Grimmjow could voice his frustration.

Put like that it didn't sound like the best of ideas.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Introductions had been made between everyone before they could start. Though everyone else knew each other already, and it was for Ichigo's benefit. Ichigo had learned that the two girls who'd pounced on Grimmjow as though he were their own personal trampoline were Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck a centaur (something Ichigo hadn't even known existed for real), and Lilynette Gingerbuck, who it turned out was the same young werewolf he'd met last week. Starrk had been strangely easy to recognise as a man and for that reason alone Ichigo had already figured out who the small, pale-green haired Hollow was before he'd been told.

Nelliel had quickly taken to Ichigo, her enthusiasm hard to ignore, and her smothering hugs impossible to escape. It was now a little clearer why Grimmjow had pretty much grinned and bore the treatment.

Ichigo had decided to go with Szayel's idea, not liking a fist fight that could escalate into possible dead bodies when a simple injection could instigate the same internal changes.

Grimmjow's protests that Ichigo needed to sleep before attempting to tap into his Hollow side were overridden with the logic that being tired would benefit them – whereas it would make no difference to him while he was dealing with the Awakening. That's right, they had a fucking name for the insanity they planned to unleash on him! Ichigo scowled at the thought, but at the same time he was determined to see this through. He'd do anything – anything at all – to protect the people he cared about. A list that was apparently growing by the day.

Not quite sure what to expect, Ichigo sat on a metal bench which took up a large section of the new room they'd moved to. This one was far more technical-looking, with strange machinery around it, and some sort of energy field Szayel could erect with the flick of a switch. Gin had pointed out that what they were about to do was dangerous for everyone involved, not just the Hollows who would be watching and waiting for Ichigo to regain control of himself. If he'd been human it would have only taken a full moon to trigger the Change, but Ichigo was born with the ability to shift even if it remained dormant within him.

Everyone else would be fighting for their lives to keep him contained, but he was assured that they were among the most powerful Hollows around – even Gin was no longer a simple Reaper, and had the ability to shift into a fox larger than the more common variety. Gin was a kitsune, an almost god-like creature of legend known for wisdom, and mischievousness. How Aizen had accomplished this transformation was unclear as yet, but Gin convincingly stated that if he could control his own Change, then Ichigo would be able to as well. So long as he kept in mind that he was himself, and not the creature – whatever flavour he turned out to be – he shifted into.

"They're ready," Grimmjow told him quietly, bright blue eyes clouded with concern and worry. They hardly knew each other, but already Ichigo understood that this was something special to see in Grimmjow's expression. It made Ichigo smile reassuringly in response.

"Let's do this, then," Ichigo drew himself to his feet, one hand coming to rest on Grimmjow's shoulder. He squeezed gently, then let go as he moved past.

The circular raised platform he stepped on to had four strange pillars with lit sides facing into the centre. More light erupted under his feet and over his head as a loud humming kicked into gear. Szayel appeared before him with a filled syringe.

"This will speed up the activation. I don't know what to expect as we haven't the time to extract some of your DNA. Gin tells me the worst part is the initial change, after that there's a period of disorientation, and some sort of confrontation with the Beast within. Do try and hurry things along, the more time you spend fighting with yourself the less chance you have of taking control. If we feel that you are too far gone we might have to hurt you – or even kill you – before I can inject you with a sedative," the pink haired scientist stared at him with disturbingly little emotion. He held out a hand for Ichigo to take.

"Just do it already," Ichigo finally demanded. If they continued warning him, he'd lose his nerve. He thrust his arm out, and his wrist was clenched securely in Szayel's grasp. "I need to be stronger. We all agree on that."

"Very well. This may sting a bit," the man muttered as he lined up the needle, slid it into a vein with practised ease and Szayel depressed the plunger.

Heat spread out from the tiny initial area, racing up his arm in a prickly line and headed straight for his heart. Ichigo barely had the presence of mind to glance around at the gathered collection of his allies before the liquid fire reached the centre of his chest. The pain was exquisite. It was worse than being thrown across the room to be stopped by a wall. As he gasped for breath and his vision wavered his gaze settled on Grimmjow, more by accident than intent. Those blue eyes seemed to grow larger until they filled Ichigo's entire vision, and it was as though he was dreaming once more. Even through the unbearable pain which was now beginning to extend to all of his limbs in turn, Ichigo was comforted by the thought that he'd be taking that last vision with him. Just like in those strange dreams he'd been having but hadn't had the nerve to ask about.

Then all was pain and misery.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The glimpse of an emotion Grimmjow couldn't name hit him hard as Ichigo's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Ichigo's knees hit the unforgiving floor with a hollow ringing sound. The werepanther would have gone forward to help him only the electrical field had been erected between them already. Szayel had warned them that it wouldn't contain Ichigo's powers for long, but it would give them time before they had to actively take on whatever type of Hollow creature Ichigo became. He was simply too powerful to try this any other way.

Watching his youngest clan-mate suffer grated on his nerves, evident in the sadistic grin that bared his teeth to the room as he stood not ten feet away clenching his fists in impotent fury. It shouldn't be this way. Ichigo would be safer – assuming he survived what was happening – but he should have had the time to naturally come into this evolution. Not have it forced on him by circumstances no one could control.

Pacing like an animal in a cage, as though Grimmjow was the one behind that glowing field of light, the werepanther never took his eyes off the other man. If anything went wrong Grimmjow wanted to be the one to confront Ichigo's inner Hollow. Maybe beat some sense into the damned thing.

Ichigo's head lifted, the whites of his eyes turning black and the pupils glowing an eerie gold under the fluorescents. His mouth was open too, but instead of teeth or a tongue there was a whitish substance that looked impossibly like the bone shielding Grimmjow utilised in his panther form. Very few Hollows could still use it once they became powerful enough to take on a third form, but Grimmjow had never struggled with it. As he realised what it was it began spewing forth from Ichigo's mouth as though he were vomiting shaving foam. This foam clung to itself, and never touched the lit flooring, instead curling in on itself and wrapping back around the young man's head.

"Fuck," Grimmjow cursed, feeling helpless. He hated that feeling. There was nothing for him to do, no way to help. What he wanted was something to sink his claws into, but at this point even punching someone would feel better than standing there. Useless.

"Patience, Grimmjow," Szayel's voice, the tone level. Grimmjow shot him a glare. "Soon enough he's going to break out of there if he can't get it under control fast enough."

"Yeah, well it's not like the damned Reaper's ever taught him how ta protect himself in his own head, or anythin'!" Grimmjow growled, still pissed off over how little Ichigo understood about Hollows in general and fighting more specifically.

"He'll be okay, Gwimmy!" Nel piped up. Grimmjow cringed under the sound of her childish voice. Great, just what they needed; another problem to worry about. How the hell was she going to help in that tiny child-like form of hers?

"S'gonna be fine," Gin murmured, face thoughtful instead of smiling for once.

Growling in response, Grimmjow continued pacing. It was ridiculous that he'd be so worried over a young man he'd met only a few days ago, but there was something special about Ichigo which had nothing to do with his heritage. In such a short time the hybrid had grown on him. Grimmjow wanted to take him home to Ulquiorra, and come home to the pair of them snuggled together in their bed every morning. It felt like a natural extension of everything they'd already done and said, for as much as Ichigo had protested that first night that he was not one of them, he'd been quick to accept them. Both of them. He hadn't kicked Ulquiorra out of his room the one time the vampire had visited him. He'd covered Grimmjow's mouth rather than have one of the Reaper's find out he was so close to town. Hell, Ichigo had come to Grimmjow last night, and again this morning, as though he felt something between them, too.

There was hope for more, if only they had the chance to find out where this might lead.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The landscape was unfamiliar and askew. The entire world seemed to be balanced on its side, or perhaps it was Ichigo himself who was defying the Laws of gravity? He looked around, a little confused as to why he was here when he vaguely remembered being burned alive from the inside.

He was alone.

Eventually he decided to move and see if he could find a clue as to where he was, or what he was supposed to be doing.

"Can you hear me now, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Ichigo spun at the sound of that calm, collected voice. His heart was in his throat after having been alone for what felt like forever. A stranger stood some distance away, an otherwise unnoticed wind whipping his black hair and coat around him. His skin was perfectly white, but his eyes were covered. Ichigo was sure the man was looking right at him, _through_ him maybe, even though it seemed impossible.

"Who are you?" Ichigo asked, realising the man was actually perched on a narrow pole of some kind. Even the pole was black.

"I am you," the man replied as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Ichigo looked around again. There was nothing else as far as the eye could see. Nothing but empty buildings all slanted on their sides, and a storm moving in. "I don't understand."

"We don't really have time for you to understand right now, Ichigo. There are other things you must do. For now I will explain it to you more simply; I am called Zangetsu."

"Zangetsu? You mean my sword?"

No way. This was too weird, and confusing! What did he mean he was Ichigo's sword? The man nodded, still no sign of emotion, no denial. When they'd told him he'd be able to hear his sword's voice, Ichigo hadn't thought it was possible to hallucinate a body for him, too.

"You must defeat your inner Hollow, or all is lost."

Ichigo snorted, "I know that already, old man. I just don't know how to find it."

"Not 'it', Ichigo. Him. You. _Us_."

"So what you're saying is that you're both part of me?" Ichigo refrained from rolling his eyes. That much was obvious. "How do I find him?"

"He will undoubtedly find you in a moment or so, he is already searching," Zangetsu stepped fluidly from the pole, his footsteps ringing out clearly around them as the storm clouds swirled over their heads. The wind was rising, and Ichigo was having difficulties seeing the other man's face as that long hair hid him from view. "Take my power and defeat your Hollow so that we may all live to see another day."

Zangetsu held out his hand, and Ichigo frowned as he reached out to meet him. Their hands met, clasped in a handshake, then suddenly Zangetsu was a sword again. There was no transition. One moment he was a man, the next Ichigo was alone with the familiar leather bindings in his grip. Reflexively he lifted the weapon, examining the length with a critical eye, then hefted it to one shoulder.

Where was his Hollow already?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

An hour slipped by, then two, the mass of white foam cloaking Ichigo's body from view as the strength of reiatsu grew slowly but steadily. Grimmjow had been expecting another explosion of power, or maybe something a little more exciting than inhuman screams of pain and the writhing of unformed Hollow armour. Ichigo was suffering alone in there, and fighting so damned hard to contain himself, but it looked as though he was slowly losing the battle. The urge to hit something had only become worse under the tension. And then the inevitable happened; Ichigo's energy hit new levels and the Awakening began in earnest.

What had no discernible shape became monstrously grotesque as it switched at random between one image and the next, then finally settled on one in particular. Within the flimsy shelter of groaning machinery a horned head rose, glittering golden eyes swimming in a sea of darkness focused on the room beyond it's prison, and all Grimmjow could do was gawk in awe. Never had he seen anything so amazing. Ichigo was not any of the creatures Grimmjow had ever come across before, instead taking on the form of a giant lizard with two large, curved horns protruding from his armoured head, and a long white tail to compliment his muscular arms and legs. Over his body lay a number of red lines in a jagged pattern that reminded the werepanther of tattoos, or maybe the painted lines ancient warriors had worn into battle to intimidate their enemies.

Ichigo was the single most beautiful monster Grimmjow had ever had the delight of gazing on, and as the smoking machinery finally gave out and flew outward and away from the Hollow's unbelievably strong, reiatsu-filled roar of pain, he knew that no one in this room, not even Starrk stood a chance for long against this creature. It was hard enough to remain standing, or even just to breathe. Ichigo would have to tame his own inner Beast, or lose himself to it entirely.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The rumble of thunder was so loud Ichigo could feel it in his bones. The wind had increased in strength until he was fighting to remain in place as a speck of white on the horizon caught his eye. Ichigo didn't know how he knew for sure, but he was fairly convinced this was his Hollow coming to fight for dominance over their body.

No. _His _body. Ichigo was not going to give up his life, and everything that went with it to some ability or whatever the Hollow actually was.

So Ichigo watched and waited until he could make out a perfect copy of himself, only colourless and washed out in comparison. A shabby imitation, then. White hair spiked over a pale complexion. A smirk played over the Hollow's mouth as though to make a mockery of Ichigo's permanent frown, and a white copy of Zangetsu settled on one shoulder as the creature stopped six feet before him. Not so far as to be out of reach, but enough to be a threat.

"Yer weak, Ichi," the Hollow stated, his strange voice watery and distorted. "I'm gonna eat ya, an' take ova ya body, then I'll chow down on tha' sexy blue haired pantha ya got chasing afta ya."

Ichigo grit his teeth, annoyed that the damned words were getting to him. Just the thought of this thing that looked like him touching Grimmjow, or anyone he cared about, was enough to set his temper off. And he knew better than to let his anger have free reign during a fight, it was one of the first things he'd learned; emotion had no place on the battlefield. They made you sloppy, and sloppiness would get you killed.

"I haven't got all day, Hollow," Ichigo finally answered, eyes cold and determined. "Let's get this over with."

"What? Ya think yer better'n me?" The hollow hissed, anger instantly twisting his features.

This was it; the battle that would decide if Ichigo could keep his promises to himself. And he intended to win. Ichigo set his jaw and attacked.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me, sadly.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Ichigo must fight his Hollow, but while he's battling inside of himself the mindless incarnation of his power attacks the Espada and Gin.

A/N: Still here. :P Let's see how long that remains true, yeah?

This chapter is waaay later than expected, so I apologise, but RL interrupted my writing time. On the bright side, there are other fics in the works, too. It's likely to be a while before they surface, but I thought I'd give y'all a heads up.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

There was very little time to think once the protection of the electric force field disappeared. The giant horned lizard, Ichigo's Hollow-form, instantly started destroying the place. Those taloned fingers tore through the machinery around him with an ease that defied reality. Grimmjow managed to pick his jaw up from the floor just in time to duck under a huge chunk of deformed metal with sharp, jagged edges as it sailed overhead. The large debris slammed into the far wall with a tooth-rattling clang.

Staring unbelievably at the lizard – and absently noticing the long shock of orange hair trailing down the back of it's head – Grimmjow tried to figure out what he needed to do to keep it occupied until Ichigo could take over. Shit. He'd heard that it was dangerous for everyone around an Awakening, but he'd never actually seen one with his own eyes, and it wasn't as though he'd been all that bothered about the destruction he'd caused during his own. He'd been an animal in the middle of nowhere, with nothing resembling human distinctions of morality to even leave him feeling guilty afterwards. Now he wished Ulquiorra were here; the vampire might have had a chance of hypnotising this Hollow into submission, at least for a little while.

Maybe.

Everyone else was completely unprepared for the chaos that unleashing Ichigo's inner Hollow had wrought.

Grimmjow shifted into his full resurreccion – the half-man form he'd gained when he'd first Awakened, himself – it wasn't as clumsy as the human form, and had the benefit of opposable thumbs should he need them. Which he kind of thought might come in handy if the lizard thing wanted to lob sections of Szayel's lab around. And he still had the additional tearing and slashing potential offered by his hooked claws.

Gin remained in place, his eyes hidden behind his closed lids as he smiled widely. His hands glowed softly as he recited various low-level kido spells, the bright lights and protective barriers enough to keep Ichigo's Hollow busy while Grimmjow danced around the creature's feet, struggling to stay out of reach while preventing it from doing irreversible damage to living people; Szayel's lab looked to be beyond help already.

Ooops, two rooms in one day; Szayel was going to make them all pay for it later. And it wasn't as though the freak had any interest in actual money. It would have been funny if not for the fact Grimmjow suspected Szayel's ultimate price was going to be divided into awkward, and probably painful, scientific testing. It was not something Grimmjow would be looking forward to.

Starrk's hands were pretty much tied; he couldn't use his resurreccion because it was only suitable for killing, not distracting. It left him with only two choices, and he chose to take on his preferred form of the large brown wolf, Lilynette quickly mimicking him, as though she couldn't bear to be left behind in human form. Maybe she couldn't.

Nelliel slid into her own resurreccion with some difficulty; the large form taking up a lot of floor space. She couldn't use the javelin her sword transformed into when she changed, but her hooves gave Ichigo's Hollow something to think about, though it was soon obvious she wasn't going to last long. The pale-fawn coat of her horse-like lower body already red and bleeding from the claws she'd not been fast enough to avoid.

Szayel wasn't even trying to help. The scientist had moved across the room and entered a strange booth that Grimmjow hadn't noticed beforehand, and wasn't all that interested in right now considering it was taking all he had to stay ahead of Ichigo's temper tantrum.

What the hell was taking so long? It wasn't as though these things usually took more than half an hour or so once the bone armour turned up, and Ichigo had gone into this exhausted to the point of passing out. So why did it feel like he was just getting _stronger_?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo slid to a stop on his side, the squeak of glass under his bruised and bleeding arms distorting the sound of his panting, desperate breaths. He hurt in places he'd not felt since he'd first taken up fighting with Urahara. Years of martial arts, followed by recent months of intense sword-play hadn't prepared him for this battle of supremacy over his own body. There were too many slashes in his clothing, though luckily not all of them represented sliced skin.

If this was drawn out much longer he'd lose.

It didn't bear thinking about.

Struggling onto his knees, Zangetsu buzzing with tired impatience in his hand and the glass slippery now with the blood dripping from various shallow wounds, Ichigo lifted his head to watch as his Hollow drew closer. There was a frown marring that pale, washed-out face. Ichigo swore he could see anger burning there, but over what he wasn't certain. Was it because Ichigo refused to lay down and play dead?

"Yer weak, why don'tcha give up already?" The Hollow snarled at him, golden eyes blazing with hatred and frustration.

Bingo.

Well playing dead would be no better than _being_ dead, and Ichigo wasn't one to give up, no matter how hard things seemed to be. This damned Hollow wasn't going to win. There were people relying on him, even if they would never say so.

And anyway, both Isshin and Urahara owed him big time, which was more than worth living for. It was a rare and special occurrence after all.

Teeth gritted, Ichigo pressed Zangetsu's tip into the metal frame of the window under him, pushing himself upright with the force of sheer will alone, rather than any form of finesse.

"I will _never_ give in to you," Ichigo ground out, more for himself than for the benefit of the Hollow glaring daggers at him.

There was a moment of manic laughter, the warbling of that voice grating on Ichigo's nerves, and then the white tip of the reverse-Zangetsu was thrust in Ichigo's direction. "Only one a us gets ta be King a the world. And yer too pathetic. Look atcha; ya c'n hardly stand!"

There was really no verbal answer to that one. The Hollow was right; Ichigo was only managing to stay on his feet because he was just that stubborn. He knew he couldn't win, but he _had_ to.

Closing his eyes, Ichigo took a deep breath, and let it out again as he once more focused on the reason he was doing this; his family. The two little sisters who would die if he lost so easily. The father who had been there for them, no matter how ridiculous he behaved. The friends he'd made in the past week. They needed a saviour, but that kind of thing only happened in stories. All they had, all they would _ever_ have was him – Ichigo – a student doctor with an unique biological ancestry that allowed him to create a sword from his very soul, and conjure Hollow-like powers. Or it would do, if he could just figure out how that side of things worked!

Unfortunately he didn't have _time_ to do this the old fashioned way – if such a method even existed.

The shifting of the air around him, and a surge of energy that was so dark in nature it felt cold, was all the warning Ichigo needed. Adrenaline high, Ichigo blocked the blow aimed at his neck, ignoring the Hollow's laughing taunt, and delivered another strike, this time concentrating as much of his reiatsu into his return swing as he could.

Apparently he hadn't calculated his own energies right, because the moment their twin swords connected there was a blinding light that burned brighter than the sun, so bright that Ichigo was vaguely surprised when his retinas weren't instantly fried. The familiar light of his aura – or reiatsu as he'd been corrected more than once – was electric blue, a colour which made him think of Grimmjow. Instead of the cold chill one might expect to feel when enclosed within that surging stream of pure energy, Ichigo was warmed by it. Comforted. It was like having his mother's arms around him again. Impossible, but so very, very welcoming and reassuring.

The unexpected part was having the Hollow's opposing aura pounding against his. This energy was a bright red tainted by the darkness reflected in eerie golden eyes. A harsh wind as cold and dead as Midwinter's Night whipped around them both, meeting with Ichigo's warmer essence.

The resultant clash sent them both flying with a loud boom of thunder.

The weather around them picked up the theme, instantly echoing that crashing sound, and repeating it in a series of disturbing staccato beats that resembled the firing of an automatic weapon. Ichigo stalled his backward momentum with a little concentration, even as the Hollow compensated and darted back toward where Ichigo struggled to catch his breath.

Eyes narrowed, Ichigo raised Zangetsu once more, but this time he wasn't fast enough. The blow stunned him enough to make him stumble backward several paces, but there was no pain at first. Ichigo tilted his head to gaze down the length of his chest to the protruding blade which sprang from just under his ribcage as though it was fused to his body.

No.

It couldn't end like this.

It couldn't.

_"Ichigo."_

Ichigo blinked through the sting of sweat and tears in his eyes, obscuring his vision, but there was only the Hollow before him; his lips moving silently. No sign of Zangetsu's man-form. Nothing but the storm clouds raging in the air all around them, the ferocious wind whipping white locks and orange around both of their heads. Ichigo glanced up into the vortex of churning clouds, the greys and black looking more ominous than he's previously thought possible.

_"Ichigo."_

Was this it? Would he die here – wherever here was – without ever seeing any of his loved ones again? Would the Hollow side of his soul take over his body, his life, as though Ichigo had never existed?

_"Reach for my power, Ichigo,"_ Zangetsu's voice murmured into the deafening silence.

Ichigo frowned, his mind working sluggishly. Wasn't he already using Zangetsu's power? The sword was right... Ichigo swallowed as his eyes shifted to the sword being tugged from his upper stomach, then over to the one sliding from his nerveless fingers.

_"We are both part of your soul, part of your natural defences."_

If that was true... than why couldn't Ichigo take hold of his Hollow in the same way he could Zangetsu? Wasn't that the point of all this fighting? Ichigo was supposed to be learning how to speak to his sword, but after that he was going to be learning how to access his Hollow powers. Which implied those powers were his to control.

Zangetsu's tip struck the glass surface of the window beneath his feet, and Ichigo distantly watched the sword shatter into tiny fragments.

The numbing cold which had been spreading throughout Ichigo's limbs paused. Ichigo took a breath, realising the pain he'd been expecting with the inhalation wasn't there, not even the cuts he's acquired before were noticeable now. The blood was still pooling under him, but he couldn't even feel the ticklish sensation of the liquid running over his skin.

This wasn't real. The world around him, the storm threatening to break over his head, not even the Hollow frowning at him now as though he'd finally realised Ichigo was no longer listening to him.

All of it was an illusion. A representation of the struggle to gain control over himself. Nothing more than that.

An illusion couldn't hurt him.

Ichigo reached up with his right hand to grip the Hollow's pale wrist above the white Zangetsu's hilt. Their eyes met. Warm, calm brown searching crazed golden balls of growing fear. The Hollow's mouth moved again, but Ichigo wasn't interested in what he had to say. It wasn't relevant to the realisation Ichigo had just come to; he could feel Zangetsu's energy – subtly different from his own – pulsing through the blade as though it was his own hand resting on the wrapped metal, just as he could feel the Hollow's energy – brash, and full of anger – against his palm.

"I don't have time to play games, Hollow," Ichigo told him frankly. "Too many people are relying on me."

When the pale lips pulled apart to replay Ichigo shook his head, smirked, and shifted his grip.

"I get it now," Ichigo said conversationally. "You are a part of me, and you can no sooner kill me than I can destroy you without harming myself."

With a sudden jerk of his hand Ichigo pulled the Hollow to him, forcing the width of Zangetsu's blade deeper yet, but again there was no pain. The Hollow was shaking his head, mouth wide as though trying to scream. Then their bodies touched from chest to knees, and Ichigo felt more than saw the other as they _began to merge._

"I need to get back to the real world and protect everyone," Ichigo said into the silent creature's face.

The Hollow's face twisted grotesquely as he was absorbed into Ichigo, their energies no longer fighting each other so much as becoming one phenomenal mass of conflicting, yet strangely complimentary reiatsu. Just before the face disappeared the thin lips moved again, and whether it was because they were so close, or whether he imagined it, Ichigo heard a lilting whisper, "Yer too weak ta stay on top fer long."

The lingering sense of animosity sent a shiver down Ichigo's spine. He closed his eyes. To win was to be alone.

No. Not alone. Even now Zangetsu and the Hollow were inside of him. Part of him. Just as they were meant to be.

The first drop of rain hit his eyelid as Ichigo smiled to himself.

The deluge began in earnest then, washing over him like the tide of relief at finally understanding...

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The giant lizard threw back it's head and roared so loud the very walls seemed to shake. Grimmjow crouched, muscles aching and ready to move at the slightest sign of an attack. Starrk had helped the females from the room, and was currently guarding them in their weakened states (assuming he was still awake), just in case Ichigo broke free and started rampaging through the entire facility (which would presumably wake the werewolf up if he wasn't already). Gin was staring at the lizard, his red eyes glowing faintly with his power. The ex-Reaper had been firing random patterns of reiatsu bursts, and more than once he'd narrowly missed striking Grimmjow by mistake, but it was hard to tell if that was deliberate or not.

Szayel had yet to resurface, though there had been a slowly growing hum of machinery coming from where he'd disappeared to, which suggested that the octava was preparing a surprise they really didn't want to see.

Another bellowing scream filled the room, this time so loud Grimmjow winced and had to force himself not to cover his ears, though he expected them to start bleeding at any moment. Both clawed hands rose over the lizard's head, it's thick tail whipping around in agitation and disrupting the smaller remains of decimated equipment, but no attack was forthcoming. Grimmjow frowned, wondering if this was the turning point, or if they were about to see just what this thing could do. He couldn't see the lizard as Ichigo any longer; the lights were on all right, but there was no one home to answer the fucking door.

Without warning the swirling, golden eyes in that unfathomable sea of darkness snapped to where Grimmjow stood, the unguarded pain in that gaze was terrible to witness. Faster than he could blink the creature had crossed the space between them. The werepanther tried to dodge out of the way, but it was no use. As fast as Grimmjow was in this form, he simply couldn't compete with Ichigo's inner Hollow.

The pair of them crashed to the floor, Ichigo's Hollow astride Grimmjow's legs, the lizard's claws mere millimetres from tearing his throat out. Grimmjow was frozen with shock. He was stunned, not that he was in a dangerous situation, or that he'd been so easily overpowered, but because the proximity was doing inappropriate things to sensitive parts of his body. iNow/i of all times. Fighting generally made him horny, and Grimmjow would usually be the first to admit it, but that was when he was winning, not when he'd been bested and was likely to end up on the wrong end of the experience.

Golden eyes focused on blue, a spill of wild orange hair flowing around them both as Ichigo's Hollow leaned closer, and Grimmjow growled heatedly while he fought the instinct to use his own claws to rip into the creature's tender stomach. The lizard scented him, the snuffling sound oddly calm, then growled back, something about the sound sending shivers down the werepanther's spine, and not in a bad way. It didn't sound like Ichigo wanted to eat him alive in the traditional sense of the words.

The glaring was interrupted by another burst of reiatsu from the lizard, one that stole Grimmjow's breath and flung his head back with a strangled sound. Fuck. He'd never thought to be flat on his back under a stronger opponent and actually be enjoying the situation. Not that this was completely enjoyable to be pinned down, but surprisingly it wasn't freaking Grimmjow out in the way that he thought it should.

Warm breath fanned over Grimmjow's face. Then there was a gasped moan, and the creature reared back, it's reiatsu fluctuating wildly. Grimmjow stared, almost afraid to move, as the first cracks appeared in the bone armour encasing Ichigo's lizard-man-form. Pained eyes rolled down, recognition registering for the first time in those golden depths.

With an echoing sound resembling breaking glass the rest of the armour shattered, the fragments disintegrating before they could reach the floor. Left in the wake, his body unscathed beyond a few light bruises, Ichigo slumped forward with a soft murmur that was suspiciously close to the werepanther's name. Grimmjow only barely managed to catch him before Ichigo could unwittingly head-butt him in the nose. It was like holding a dead body for all the resistance Ichigo offered. He was completely limp.

Well, now all he had to deal with was Gin's knowing smile, and maybe Szayel when he finished playing with his equipment.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Fat lot of fucking good you were," Grimmjow growled, his temper shot to pieces. He'd not had much sleep this morning, and after running around Ichigo's Hollow-form like the mouse instead of a proper feline, he was already feeling irritated. Which wasn't helped by the fact Ichigo had yet to open his eyes.

Szayel made a tutting noise, one elegant hand rising to check his hair. "I was not idle, I assure you," he stated as though offended by the very idea.

Grimmjow grunted, nonplussed. No matter what the bastard had actually been doing, it had looked like he'd escaped so he didn't have to get his dainty little fingers dirty. Not that Szayel had ever had a problem with dirt. Unless it got on his immaculate clothes. Or in his hair. Or under his nails.

Ichigo moved restlessly in his sleep, a soft whine that once more sounded like Grimmjow's name escaped parted lips. Shit, if he kept saying it like _that_ Grimmjow was going to do something regrettable. Maybe. Depended on how Ichigo took being pounced in his sleep.

"I took several readings before he destroyed the primary sensors, and he didn't completely wipe out the back-ups during his little tantrum. I will be able to better judge his strengths with that data once I run it through a few basic algorithms. With what I know already I can safely say it is lucky he won his own battle before we had to step in, even Starrk isn't on that level," Szayel pointed out snidely, as though no one else might have been able to figure it out for themselves. Which was easily translated into 'I'm pissed that your friend there trashed my lab, suck it up or suffer the consequences.'

"Great. So why isn't he waking up yet?" Grimmjow asked. If he ignored the bad mood Szayel might give up on the subtleties.

"Give 'im time, Grimmy," Gin inserted himself between the two as he made a show of patting Grimmjow on the shoulder. "An Awakenin' like tha's bound ta take it outta ya."

Grimmjow bared his teeth in annoyance at the casual touching.

"G-grimm?"

The werepanther glanced down, expecting to find Ichigo still sleeping, but instead locked gazes with warm brown eyes. Immediately switching all of his attention to the young man, Grimmjow felt a tightness in his chest unclench. Placing a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, he gave a reassuring squeeze. "Looks like yer gonna live, kiddo."

Ichigo snorted, his face twisting with mild rebuke at the nickname. Grimmjow grinned down at him, teeth flashing in his mirth.

"Did I hurt anyone?"

There was worry and fear in that question. Grimmjow hastily shook his head in the negative, and followed it up by perching on the couch they'd laid Ichigo on while he recovered. He slid his hand down from Ichigo's shoulder, and along his arm to take his hand. Their fingers twined easily and naturally.

"Good," Ichigo gave a relieved sigh and relaxed back against the cushions. "So, what were you guys arguing about?"

"Nothin' much. Grimmy was a lil worried 'bout ya, s'all," Gin answered brightly, his amusement at Grimmjow's sudden show of affection only too evident.

Growling softly in annoyance, Grimmjow returned his attention to his newest clan-mate. Gin wouldn't stop acting like an ass no matter what Grimmjow did. But there was something he'd noticed in the scuffle before, and he pressed Ichigo for answers while he was conscious, "You didn't just talk to your sword, did ya?"

Brown eyes widened, then narrowed in thought.

"I kinda thought you were kicking out more Hollow energy than Reaper," Grimmjow explained with more patience than he was in the habit of striving for normally. Their fingers remained tangled momentarily, but Grimmjow wasn't really sappy enough to sit there holding hands for the rest of the day, so with one last squeeze he withdrew the limb. That Ichigo held onto him tighter before letting go was promising. "You need a rest, but after that we need ta start training, yeah?"

"Dad doesn't even know I'm out here," Ichigo protested, though Grimmjow noted he didn't try to leave, or even sit up.

"I c'n let 'im know where y'are," Gin piped up.

Both Grimmjow and Ichigo turned their heads to stare at him.

"Wha? S'not like I dunno where 'e lives," the silver-haired fox pointed out.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, but I perverted them for our entertainment.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: A quiet lull before the storm hits, where the boys become better acquainted, and daddy Isshin learns that his baby boy is all grown up.

A/N: A little bit of GrimmIchi semi-fluff to whet your appetites for the future. The smut is coming – pun intended – eventually, but I'd like to remind you that this fic is mostly plot-centric.

I've also been fighting this chapter through the flu and in general, and I still don't like it, but I fear any other changes I make will only ruin it, so here it is. As is. No more fiddling.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo was only half awake as Grimmjow led him into the room Szayel had assigned them while his bizarre underlings attended to the mess of his laboratory. The light from the corridor illuminated several dark shadows that morphed into a bed, couch, and a low table when Grimmjow's random slapping of the wall eventually found the light switch. Everything was neat, with sharp edges and squared shapes, and clean linen on the bed. Ichigo eyed the bed with longing. He was so tired. Last night had been draining, and he'd just not had the chance to recover before things had gone from bad to worse.

Grimmjow closed the door and flipped the latch with a sense of relief that made Ichigo frown. Questioning the werepanther's presence hadn't even occurred to the hybrid until now, and truthfully he felt safer knowing Grimmjow would have his back, but as he watched the tension drain out of those broad shoulders, he was suddenly aware of the other man in a way he hadn't been before.

Swallowing past a lump that threatened to close off his airways, Ichigo averted his eyes from the mostly nude form, and stared at the bed. Then glanced over at the couch. He couldn't really take the comfortable-looking bed while the werepanther used that cramp-inducing torture device, could he? With an internal sigh, Ichigo grabbed a pillow off the bed and turned to make his way to the couch, only to freeze in place as he practically came chest to chest with Grimmjow.

"Don't be an ass," the werepanther growled out.

Ichigo leaned back, hoping a little distance might stop certain parts of his anatomy from getting any happier at their proximity. "I, uh, just thought..."

"Yeah, save it kid. We'll share the bed," Grimmjow cut in, a single blue eyebrow rose as though in challenge. "I'm not gonna pounce ya in your sleep, if that's what's got your panties in a twist. I prefer a little more participation from my partners."

Ichigo scowled, a low growl trickling from his lips before he could stop it. The sound surprised him, but Grimmjow didn't give him time to think about it. There was something wild and frankly terrifying about Grimmjow's answering snarl. It made the hairs all over his body stand on end, and sent a shiver down his spine.

They glared at each other for a further moment, neither of them backing down, with the tension slowly building between them. Then Ichigo sucked in a breath and glanced away from that intense gaze. Grimmjow wouldn't hurt him. He didn't quite know how he knew that, but as had happened several times over the course of their short acquaintance Ichigo felt on a fundamental level that Grimmjow meant him no harm, and would in fact protect him should he need it. That Ichigo was fully capable of protecting himself was besides the point. And it wasn't even as if he thought Grimmjow was treating him like a helpless girl, either. Though what exactly their relationship was he still didn't quite understand.

"Fine," Ichigo murmured, his resistance deflated in the face of Grimmjow's determination. What did it matter who slept where, anyway?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"So... what am I?"

Grimmjow grunted and continued staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't actually see anything in the dark – this room was underground and designed for two Hollows who didn't need light to navigate by. Ichigo's body tensed beside him, and Grimmjow just knew the Hunter was going to push him for answers.

Sure enough there was movement, and Ichigo prodded at him, "I don't feel any different, but I know something happened. You guys did figure out what type of Hollow I am, didn't you?"

Exhaling a long sigh, Grimmjow finally closed his eyes.

"Does it really matter?"

"Now you're the one being an ass," Ichigo sounded like he was pouting, and Grimmjow almost regretted turning out the lights.

"You're a lizard."

"..."

"You're thinking too hard," Grimmjow teased. Shit, he could nearly _hear_ the cogs whirring away in that head of his.

"But..," Ichigo sounded utterly lost. Confused.

Grimmjow sighed. "It's simple enough. Lizards are like protection spirits."

"You mean the way kitsune are mischievous?"

"Sorta. Look, vampires are technically dead, and they suck blood to survive. Weres are carnivorous, and wouldn't shy away from cannibalism. Gin is the only were-fox I've ever met, but Aizen made him into what he is, so I'm betting it ain't your run-of-the-mill kinda deal, yeah?" Grimmjow shifted on the bed, unsure how to explain. "The Espada were created to be both Hollow and Reaper, with none of the drawbacks. It's why Ulquiorra can move around during the day when he chooses to, but it takes more energy for him to do that, and that means feeding more. You're like the über-Espada. The fact you're also a lizard makes you seriously powerful. Lizards are guardians, with the punch to back them up."

"I still don't understand," Ichigo grumbled petulantly. He really didn't like not being the smartest, and most knowledgeable in the room.

"All ya need to know is that you have the power you wanted to protect your friends, and Karakura Town. It's what you wanted, ain't it? Nothing else you could've become would've been better than this. Talk to Gin or Szayel when we get up. For now just shut your eyes and sleep, will ya?" Grimmjow waited in the dark to see what Ichigo would do next.

Silence. Then a little bit of movement that suggested Ichigo'd rolled onto his side, facing away from Grimmjow. A huffed breath. Then nothing. Ichigo'd fallen asleep. It was a show of trust that had Grimmjow grinning from ear to ear as he let himself drift off.

Maybe the kid didn't know it, but that kind of trust between Hollows was hard to come by, and seldom honoured for long. Generally you didn't turn your back on something that might get a bit peckish in the middle of the night as you never knew when that hungry gaze might settle on _you_.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Kurosaki Isshin paced back and forth in the kitchen of the residential section of his home. Kisuke had run off first thing this morning with a wasp up his butt, and Isshin had thought Ichigo had crawled into bed. He'd almost panicked when he realised Ichigo had snuck out, and probably straight after they'd all finished talking. Who knew what the sleazy shopkeeper was up to, and if Ichigo had done what Isshin ithought/i he might have, things were about to get... interesting.

It was at times like these when he had to remind himself that knowing – and loving – Misaki had been worth it, however short their time together. If Ichigo wasn't the death of him, the two girls likely would be. But the memories of his wife's smiling face, of the happiness she'd brought him, warmed his heart even after all these years without her.

With a heavy sigh, he finally sat down at the kitchen table, already missing Yuzu's presence. His youngest, and sweetest daughter took after her mother. If she'd been there she'd have had the coffee pot on already, and probably would have made him eat something by now. Left to his own devices – and more than aware of just what might come crashing down on their heads any day now – Isshin wasn't particularly interested in cooking. Heck, in the state he was in he'd likely burn the entire clinic to the ground! The only thing he'd managed to do was boil water and make a pot of tea, which didn't take too much effort.

The sound of the door opening caught him by surprise, and he almost forgot to hide behind his usual mask as he set the little tea cup down onto the table. It had taken some time to develop that energetic, and somewhat melodramatic enthusiasm for life, let alone the goofy smile. Isshin had worn it through some of the most difficult moments of his family's recent history (mostly for the sake of the twins) as though it were his natural inclination, and in a way it had become so.

It said something about the state of his mind that it was hard to pull out now.

Turning his head, he only barely recognised the heavily-shielded reiatsu before the traitor Ichimaru Gin strolled through the back door as though he owned the place. The dead traitor, or so Isshin had been informed many years ago.

"Boo," Gin waggled the fingers of one hand.

Without a word Isshin summoned Engetsu and moved across the intervening space until he had the sharp edge pressed to a delicate white throat. The last time he'd seen this man, Gin had been a gangly child following Aizen around like an obedient puppy. It was hard to mistake that hair though, or that creepy smile which made Isshin think of a smug snake about to devour a paralysed victim. It made him wonder if those shielded eyes were as dead and lifeless as he'd always suspected.

"Give me one good reason not to kill you now," Isshin dared him, his own happy expression having fallen away to reveal the burning anger he'd never quite overcome. This man, along with Aizen Sousuke and Tosen Kaname, had been behind the attacks that had eventually killed his sweet Misaki. No matter what Ichigo had said about who'd actually killed her, if Aizen hadn't come after her Ichigo and the girls would still have their mother. And Isshin kind of suspected he knew who'd been blabbing to his son.

"Isshin," Gin smirked, as though they were old friends. "I'm 'ere ta tell ya that Ichi's jus' peachy."

He seemed to relish the sing-song rhyming he'd preformed. The smirk widened into a thin-lipped smile. All he needed were the retractable fangs to complete his little reptile impression.

"What have you done with my son, Ichimaru?"

"Now, now," the insolent ass raised both arms so that his bell-like sleeves drooped back and revealed his empty hands, "'E's jus' fine. Ichi's found himself a lil kitty-cat ta play wit, s'all."

Eyes narrowed with suspicion – and unintentionally showing Gin just how much of Ichigo's expressions were hereditary – Isshin kept his arm steady though sheer, stubborn will alone. It had been many years since he'd openly called upon his Reaper abilities, and he was fairly rusty. The slender blade of his Zanpakuto shimmered for a moment with his desire to slice into the tender skin of his enemy, but if Gin knew where Ichigo was, it might be prudent to wait until Gin told him why he'd meandered into his house without a care in the world.

It didn't make any sense, and Isshin wasn't fool enough to believe that he'd spoken the entire truth.

Smirk widening as though Gin could see what Isshin was thinking, the ex-Reaper placed a single finger against the flat of Engetsu's blade, and slowly, but surely pushed it away from his throat. As shows of power went, that was pretty impressive. Isshin might have been rusty, but his own strength of will, backed as it was by the force of his reiatsu, was nothing to be sneezed at.

"Reapers killed yer wife, not Aizen," Gin stated and began to turn away. Isshin couldn't help it, he was enraged at hearing this traitor speaking of the kind, gentle woman who'd still be alive now if not for Aizen and his scheming. The darker emotions were easier to give in to, and therefore needed a stricter eye kept on them, he really should have remembered that before he took a swing at the other man's unprotected head.

"Tsk, tsk," Gin shook his head, two fingers reaching up and back to hold Engetsu in mid-air. The gesture was performed with mild disdain, and some small amount of humour, but there was nothing human in the cold blue gaze that peered at him over one bony shoulder. "Be grateful the Chosen One's yer son, Isshin, or I'd 'ave killed ya fer that."

"What are you talking about?" Just the one glimpse of those blue eyes was enough to send a chill down his spine. What was Gin up to? Could he even believe that Ichigo was all right, or was Gin just fucking with him?

"A better question is 'do ya know what he is'?" Gin tilted his head to one side. He'd closed his eyes once more. Too bad it did nothing to make him look less threatening.

"He's my son, Ichimaru, that's all that really matters to me," Isshin snarled before he could get his temper under control. This wouldn't do. Turning his back on Gin, and returning to his chair, where his cup of tea had cooled, Isshin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The old man isn't going to let this one go."

"Eh? Like any a us care what 'e thinks," Gin helped himself to a cup, and peeked into the tea pot to check the contents before pouring it into the delicate porcelain. "We're 'bout ready fer him, and it won't be no picnic this time 'round."

"And Ichigo?" Isshin glared, watching as Gin slowly took a sip, then set the cup back down and composed himself in all seriousness – or what passed for such.

"Ichi's the Chosen One, din't I jus' tell ya that?" Gin folded his fingers together on top of the table, and leaned forward as though he were about to divulge secret information. "Aizen wasn't tryin' ta rule the world cuz 'e thought he wanted the job, ya know. We wasn't supposed ta find out 'bout Misaki an' her ancestors, or how Reapers and Hollows first came ta be. Not all Hollows're evil, and not all Reapers're good."

Isshin ground his teeth as his wife's name fell from those thin lips once more. The bastard didn't have the _right_ to say her name.

"Kisuke worked out why Aizen wanted Misaki so badly he went after her twice, but what's a repressed gene got to do with anything?" Isshin frowned down at his cold tea, then glanced over at Gin.

"Who said it was repressed?" Gin asked slyly. "Ichi's human, with a Reaper's sword and a Hollow's form."

Isshin slammed his hands down on the table, which bounced his cup and spilled the contents. "Since when? What the hell have you done to my son?"

"Come now," Gin sat calmly, only the twitching of his lips and the amusement etched over his face meeting Isshin's show of temper. "Yer boy's all about sacrificin' himself fer the greater good, now 'e dun have ta."

"All you've done is make things worse!"

Gin sighed, the smirk fading for a moment as those dead, soulless eyes slitted open once more. "Ichi's not alone, an' we're not gonna let the Reaper's kill 'im. He's got a knack fer makin' friends, an' the most recent ones're almost as powerful as 'e is."

"But we can't train him without bringing the Reapers here before he's ready," Isshin pointed out, slightly taken aback by this newest information.

"S'all just fine," Gin grinned again, and this one was purely evil in a way that nothing else Isshin had ever seen could compare. "You din't notice his Awakenin', hmm? We've got it under control."

There was something about how he said the word that let Isshin know that whatever an Awakening was, it was too late to reverse it. He could guess, from the conversation they'd had so far, that it should have let every sensitive in the area know a powerful entity was here, but he'd felt absolutely nothing. Not that Isshin had ever been as good at detecting auras, or reiatsu as Kisuke was.

Maybe, just maybe, they stood a chance. Now, if only he knew what Kisuke was up to...

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo woke to the sound of... _purring_?

Blinking his eyes owlishly, and slightly confused as to why he still couldn't see anything, Ichigo held still as he tried to work out why he appeared to be snuggled up to the largest freaking cat in history. Scratch that; the largest, _hottest, _hairless cat in history. The warmth wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but everywhere they touched was slightly damp with sweat. Stronger than the need to pull back was the urge to press closer. There were still traces of that recurring dream – the only dream he seemed to have these days – running through his mind with the image of two pairs of eyes, one set blue, the other green. Being so close to Grimmjow that they were tangled around each other from shoulders to ankles felt more peaceful and relaxing than anything he could imagine.

Drawing in a deep breath of air that was heavily scented with both lemon and male musk, Ichigo closed his eyes to the darkness, and simply allowed himself to exist in this moment. Soon enough there would be things he needed to learn, people he'd have to confront, and a possible war to avert or win. For now there was only himself, and Grimmjow. In a warm, comfortable bed. And the Hollow smelt fantastic.

The purring suddenly changed pitch, and Ichigo had only enough time to tense uncertainly before muscle-corded arms wrapped around him, drawing him flush with a well defined chest. Even blinded by the lack of light Ichigo could tell Grimmjow was grinning. There was something immensely pleased about the energy radiating from the man that rivalled even his body temperature, which was already higher than Ichigo's own. The proximity was more than enough for Ichigo to feel the first stirrings of arousal, and he squirmed a little in the hopes of escaping Grimmjow's hold before it became apparent just how much he was enjoying himself.

It wasn't to be. A heated breath blew over Ichigo's skin, causing a shiver to travel the length of his spine, before a deep rumble filled the air.

"I've been thinking about this," Grimmjow growled out, the very sound of his voice enough to make Ichigo groan softly. The werepanther merely chuckled, sending more puffs of air over an already sensitive throat.

Ichigo wanted to ask Grimmjow about those strange dreams, as that comment made him wonder if perhaps they were somehow linked. Before he could form the words the bedroom door slammed open with a loud crunching noise as the lock was forcefully broken. There was plaster and twisted metal littering the floor, as the door itself hung from mangled hinges. It reminded Ichigo of Szayel's ruined lab.

On the bed, both of them squinted in the glaring light now flooding in from the corridor, and then Grimmjow was moving with a speed that took Ichigo by surprise. There was a clash of bodies and a growling which raised the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck. Whoever had burst through their door was not a friend, the sounds coming from Grimmjow's throat were too enraged for that, and without much thought Ichigo had summoned Zangetsu and was across the room, the large tip pressed to a slender throat over Grimmjow's shoulder.

A lone grey eye widened in surprise, a trace of fear in the depths and gone again almost too quickly for Ichigo to notice. Long black hair pooled around the downed Hollow – and it was definitely a Hollow, his reiatsu was even stronger than Grimmjow's. A long, lanky body was pinned rather effectively by Grimmjow's much more compact form, though the blade resting threateningly against his neck had stilled all attempts at escape. Hopefully it would quell the urge to fight back, as Ichigo couldn't see both of the stranger's hands.

"Gilga," Grimmjow snarled through his teeth. Clawed fingers flexed where they gripped the torn fabric of the man's shirt.

"Is he another Espada?" Ichigo asked, curious. The power levels certainly seemed to suggest it.

"He was," Grimmjow confirmed. Then he lent forward, the growl in his voice erotic and deadly at the same time, "What're you doing storming in here like ya own the place? Are you still under the delusion that I couldn't beat the living shit outta ya without Ulquiorra?"

"You know, it's a real stupid bug that wanders into a feline's lair," Starrk drawled out, which drew Ichigo's attention to the werewolf sitting on it's haunches a few doors down. Under one paw was a another Hollow, this one blond. Starrk's tired gaze was fixed on the dark-haired newcomer as though the one under him wasn't much threat. "What are you doing here, Nnoi? I'm sure Szayel didn't tell you to interrupt Grimmjow and his newest clan member's nap time for another smack-down."

"Shuddup wolf-boy," Gilga, or Nnoi – or whatever his name was – snarled out through clenched teeth.

Ichigo cleared his throat, "Um, guys?" Everyone's attention zeroed in on him. "I really need a bathroom break and not slicing him open is only getting harder."

"So lean forward a little," Grimmjow suggested viciously.

Ichigo frowned, and let go of the summons. Zangetsu vanished back to wherever he went when not in use. "I'm not going to kill him just because you don't like him."

"Commendable of you, Ichigo" Starrk told him, then trotted closer on all four paws so he could peer down at the prone figure on the floor. Ichigo glanced at the blond who hadn't spoken even one word. He was watching Grimmjow and Starrk with his one eye (what was with these two both having missing eyes?), his expression showing worry for the tall Hollow. "You should just tell them what you want, take your fracción, and leave. I'm tired, and I don't have time for your bullshit, Nnoi."

"I.. he just... Hey!" Nnoi struggled against Grimmjow's hold for a moment before the werepanther sat back on his heels and let him have a little space – though Ichigo noticed Grimmjow was still straddling his narrow waist. "What's with their damned _clan_ anyway? The vampire was Aizen's favourite bitch-boy, and now the kitty-cat's got the hybrid all to himself!"

"Yeah, 'cause that's flattering," Ichigo muttered as Grimmjow's growling turned feral. He stood up and stretched out the kinks in his spine. It didn't look like there was any real threat here, just some sort of past grudge that spilled over into the present. With his eyes adjusted to the light now, and Starrk there to help keep an eye on things, Ichigo was not too bothered leaving Grimmjow to his little reunion.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Grimmjow physically felt Ichigo leave, though he didn't take his eyes off Nnoitora. Stupid jealous ass would likely try to stab the hybrid in the back just to show how superior he was regardless of how cowardly the act might be, and Grimmjow hadn't really had the chance to warn Ichigo to keep on his guard around the arrogant bastard.

Once the three Espada were alone, Grimmjow slowly stood up, his blue eyes wary as he gave Nnoitora the space to move.

"So tell me again why you thought busting down the door was a good idea?" Grimmjow pressed, annoyed. He was fairly sure that he and Ichigo would have been doing the horizontal tango by now had they been left in peace.

"Che," Nnoi ran a thin-fingered hand through his hair and straightened his clothing, taking his sweet time to answer. "I was told there's gonna be another war, and I want in. But then I was told that Aizen's hypothetical 'perfect creature' is for real and he's shacked up with you."

"He's not 'shacked up', sheesh, I've not even asked him to move in to the Bat-Cave," Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

Nnoi burst out laughing, one hand held to his stomach as Starrk huffed out an irritated breath. When Grimmjow glanced at the werewolf however, he noticed there was more humour than exasperation in that intelligent gaze.

"I bet you haven't called it that where little Ulqui can hear you," Nnoi teased in a sing-song voice.

"You're fixing this door," Grimmjow told him, ignoring the truth of those words.

"It is your fault it's broken," Starrk agreed, then added, "and Grimmjow's tiny clan already owes Szayel for an entire lab and a training room." The wolf let his tongue loll out of his mouth in a canine grin. Nnoitora was still grinning with manic glee.

Tension abated as they fell into familiar patterns, which was not to say that Nnoitora wouldn't try to kill him, but Grimmjow was less edgy than he had been.

By the time Ichigo had rejoined them Grimmjow had switched the light on in their room, and told Nnoitora and Tesra to sit their asses down on the couch he'd refused to let Ichigo relegate himself to several hours ago. How long had they been asleep, anyway? Grimmjow frowned. How long did they have until Ulquiorra rose for the night? Maybe someone should let the vampire know where the rest of his clan had wandered off to, and that Ichigo was about as safe as he could be now that he'd fully Awakened.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, which makes me a very naughty thief, don'tcha think? ;)

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Ichigo returns to a brief conversation between the Espada, followed by another chance to discuss the dreams with Grimmjow.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo didn't know what to think about Nnoitora. The way he'd burst into their room – and Ichigo fairly blushed thinking about what he and Grimmjow must have looked like at that moment – as though they were under attack had been... uncomfortable.

The corridor was empty as Ichigo made his way back to the room, but the door was open and the light had been switched on. Curious as to how things had gone once he'd left, he took his time to find a seat next to Grimmjow on the bed. The tall, dark haired Espada was lounging on the couch. That was the only word for his relaxed sprawl. Beside him, the blond one was sitting somewhat primly, his uncovered eye darting around as he studied everyone carefully. Maybe Nnoitora was the type to give pop quizzes or something. In any case the pair of them seemed about as relaxed as could be, while Starrk was stretched out on the floor, still in his wolf form with his large, canine head resting on his two front paws. And he was snoring softly.

Grimmjow had chosen the highest spot, Ichigo noticed, just like a house cat that wanted the advantage. In Ichigo's experience that usually meant the refrigerator, but in this instance the bed worked just fine. There was space between him and the others, with Starrk sort of acting as a buffer, but it didn't _look _like Grimmjow was posturing. Maybe that was the point.

Climbing onto the bed and sitting cross-legged beside Grimmjow, he glanced around, wondering why no one was speaking, only to find that they were staring at him. Ichigo scowled. If it was the hair he was not going to be amused. It wasn't his fault he'd inherited his grandfather's garish orange colour.

"What?" Ichigo asked testily.

Grimmjow chuckled and leant to the side so that his head rested on Ichigo's shoulder. Blue hairs tickled the side of Ichigo's neck. It made him shiver. "You see?" Ichigo cornered his eyes to look down at him, but realised the werepanther was smirking at their guests. "He's part of my clan 'cause that's where he belongs."

With a huff of breath Ichigo nudged Grimmjow off. They were still on the topic of possession as though he were a dog to be collared and controlled! That growl he'd made earlier was repeated as he bared his teeth slightly in irritation at the thought. "I belong in Karakura Town with my friends and family."

Or he had done, and he was determined to keep it that way.

Nnoi sniggered, his teeth bared in a wide smile that put Ichigo on edge. There was a feeling, an instinctual sense, that this man was dangerous in a way that Grimmjow had never been towards him. The Hollow was lazing on the couch as though he had no cares in the world, and Ichigo wasn't even sure what it was that made him think like that, but he trusted his gut feelings.

"Ya think the Reapers're just gonna let you go home and forget about all this?" Nnoitora waved a hand disinterestedly. "They're gonna wanna kill you, your family, and anyone else in that town they think might be too informed."

Ichigo thought about it, and everything he'd seen and heard from Rukia and Renji, of the conversation he'd had with them, his dad, and Urahara. He'd kind of come to the same conclusion about himself, and his family, but Nnoitora was suggesting that the Reapers were so afraid of things they didn't understand that they'd kill it first, and not even bother to ask questions later.

It was a fear Ichigo was all too familiar with.

"Ulquiorra and I are going to stand with you," Grimmjow spoke up, sounding subdued. Ichigo turned, ignoring Nnoitora for the moment – who he didn't know how to answer – in favour of the man who was willing to put his own life on the line to protect him and those he loved. Why would he do that? "You're one of us, Ichi," he grinned as Ichigo narrowed his eyes in reaction to the nickname, "We protect our own."

"Yeah, well as wonderful as this sap-fest is, I think I'll just go back to annoying Pinky," Nnoitora stood up and stretched, all seven feet of him. He was so thin that the height just made him all the more unnerving to look at. Ichigo tilted his head back a little, keeping as much of the man in his sights as he could. "C'mon Tesra."

"Of course, Nnoitora, sir," the blond was quick to gain his feet. The look on his face was bordering on worshipful as he faced his... friend? Master? Ichigo didn't know what to make of their relationship. Nnoitora didn't even acknowledge Tesra with a glance.

Ichigo watched them leave, Starrk opened one eye in a wary way that suggested he'd not been asleep at all. Then the wolf slowly rose, dipped his head to them, and trotted out of the room.

Grimmjow sighed.

"I don't know what you're upset about, no one's trying to turn you into their pet," Ichigo grumbled with a hint of another growl. They were alone, and he was reminded of what had almost happened earlier, before Nnoitora had interrupter them, and before Grimmjow had opened his big fat mouth.

"I'm not..," Grimmjow paused, turned to Ichigo and then away. "When I saw you fightin' against the wolves I was impressed. I din't claim ya so you'd be owned like a dog; it's an honour to be brought into a clan. You're family. We'd die to protect you."

Ichigo glared, not sure how to take that. No one was supposed to die for him, it was his job, and his duty to protect everyone else, dammit!

"C'm'ere," Grimmjow wrapped an arm around Ichigo's waist to tug him closer, and Ichigo didn't fight it. Warmth seeped through Ichigo's shirt where they touched as he lay his head against Grimmjow's shoulder. He might still be a little annoyed, but he was comfortable with Grimmjow. Mostly. It was still embarrassing how quickly his body reacted to being this close to the other man, though.

They stayed like that for a long moment, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts, then Ichigo remembered that he'd never gotten to ask about the dreams.

"Grimm?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, this might sound a bit crazy," Ichigo began, stumbling over his words and refusing to move even though he could feel Grimmjow's need to make eye contact. "But have you ever heard of Hollows um... sort of dreaming about other Hollows? Specific ones, I mean."

"What kind of dreams?" There was something in the way he said that which heated Ichigo's cheeks. Damned pale skin and the stupid ability to blush at the drop of a hat!

Ichigo squirmed. How was he supposed to say this without sounding like a love-struck, teen-aged _girl_? "There was darkness, and eyes, and a sense of... of _home_." As well as waking up so horny he had to be careful to lock his bedroom door so his sister didn't walk in on him any more. And earlier had been just like that; waking up in the dark and feeling Grimmjow's presence there with him, but Ichigo very carefully didn't say that out loud. To admit how good it had felt to wake up with him seemed even more risky than confessing he'd been dreaming about either Hollow at all.

Grimmjow was silent for a long moment, his body tense, but then he heaved a sigh and flopped backward on the bed, bringing Ichigo down beside him. There was a brief series of fumbling and scooting around until they were positioned better, then Grimmjow nuzzled closer on his side. Ichigo's head was tucked firmly under Grimmjow's chin, one hand against his bare chest, the other arm looped casually over a slender hip where his fingers unconsciously traced patterns in the small of Grimmjow's back.

"Hollows are instinctual creatures with the drives of both humans and animals," Grimmjow told him, his voice low and rumbling softly. "Szayel can explain this better," there was a frustrated sound, and then, "Look, if you're having _ithose kinds of dreams_' about one of us then your Hollow-side has probably already decided on a mate, you just haven't made it official yet."

"What?" Ichigo choked out, mortified. Then he was even more confused as he realised something. "But... there was more than one.."

"Oh?"

_"Ya know ya want 'em both,"_ Ichigo's inner Hollow interjected.

"Shut up!" Ichigo snapped at the Hollow, but he was equally mad at Grimmjow for the teasing, so he didn't correct the misunderstanding, and tried to pull away. The other male wouldn't let him go. "Are you sure about the mating thing? Is it permanent?"

"It could just be a normal human dream, you have those, right?"

Ichigo sighed. Yeah, normal dreams changed from night to night. They didn't repeat over and again every time you closed your eyes. "I am so screwed."

"Sounds like fun," Grimmjow purred into his ear and Ichigo found the strength to push him away at last. The werepanther sprawled out with a laugh, "So what happens in these dreams, then?"

Ichigo scowled, expecting to see gleeful lechery in those blue eyes, but finding only amusement – and under that he thought he saw a flash of disappointment. That was too confusing to think about, so he shifted his attention to the question at hand.

"I just... I don't know! I only ever remember the eyes, and emotions – that sort of thing. And you didn't answer me; do Hollows mate for life, like swans, or are they more... promiscuous?" Ichigo huffed out.

Grimmjow rolled onto his back, and looked up at the ceiling, "The wolves mate for life, so do many species, but I was born a panther, and we naturally mate with more than one female, fighting off any other male who comes into our territory. Only I'm not like other panthers. I've been monogamous toward Ulquiorra for a very long time," Grimmjow glanced back so Ichigo could see the honesty in his open face. "He was attracted to Aizen and I would have been okay with sharing, but the asshole thought he was oh so better than us. Thing is bats are even looser than panthers when it comes to mating."

Ichigo stared. It was probably the most personal information he'd been given so far, and Grimmjow delivered it so matter-of-factly.

"What about earlier?" Ichigo asked uncertainly.

"You mean before Gilga stormed in on us?" A sinful smirk curved Grimmjow's mouth, just before he moved so fast and fluidly that Ichigo forgot to breathe. They were practically nose-to-nose. The shades of blue that made up those impossible eyes were mesmerising. "I was going to do this," and the werepanther pressed his lips to Ichigo's with no further warning.

It wasn't Ichigo's first kiss, not even his first kiss from another man, but it left him dizzy as his eyes closed. Grimmjow's lips were softer than he'd expected, gentler. Brushing teasingly over Ichigo's when it became apparent he wasn't going to stop it. That Ichigo wasn't going to pretend he wasn't interested. Then a long, slick tongue sought entry, and Ichigo eagerly opened to him. The dreams had been filled with warmth and comfort, and a sense of rightness, yet they were nothing but a pale shadow to the feeling Ichigo experienced now.

A soft moan slipped free as Ichigo finally moved, arms sliding around Grimmjow's bare sides to explore his broad back the way their tongues were currently mapping out each other's mouths. Grimmjow tasted of spices and heat, his body hard and rippling with bunching muscles under Ichigo's fingers. And best of all Grimmjow was touching him in return. One large hand swept sure, smooth lines down Ichigo's flank, the fingers curling to grip momentarily around Ichigo's hip as though to tug him closer, before releasing him and reversing course once more. Everywhere their bodies met, even through the layer of clothing between them, Ichigo felt as though he was on fire.

After he'd forgotten the broken door, and that they were not alone here in this underground facility, Grimmjow pulled back to look at him. Ichigo gazed up into those lust-darkened eyes and wanted to strip them both naked, to continue with this until he was thoroughly satiated, and unable to move for a week.

"You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna do something stupid," Grimmjow groaned, and closed his eyes as though to block the sight Ichigo made from his mind. His head dipped forward to rest against Ichigo's shoulder. "And I doubt you're exhibitionist enough to deal with the results."

Ichigo blinked in surprise as he was suddenly reminded of where they were, and felt his face heat with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Grimmjow nipped at his neck lightly. Ichigo caught his breath at the electric sensation. "Just promise me we can do this again, when we don't have ta stop?"

Ichigo coaxed Grimmjow's head up so they were looking at one another again, and grinned. "Soon, I hope?"

But then the smile fell away as he remembered there might not be time for that. They had the Reapers and Hollows to sort out first, and there was no telling what might happen. If only there was some way of resolving their issues peacefully!

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Ichigo slammed into the unrelenting metal wall with a grunt of pain for the third time in as many minutes. Lilynette was fast, Nelliel faster, but Grimmjow was like a streak of lightning. It hurt his head trying to keep up with that blinding speed. Grimmjow was adamant, however, that Ichigo could move much faster, if only he'd 'pull his head out of his ass'.

Too bad he couldn't figure it out.

Scowling with concentration, Ichigo rose to his feet once more, and faced Grimmjow. Blue eyes glared at him with a fierce determination to rival his own, while that strange, feline-human body slunk closer. While Ichigo watched he though he saw openings in the other's defences, but the moment he tried to take advantage they disappeared. Was it just a strategy to draw him in, or was there something Ichigo was missing?

Grinding his teeth together in frustration, Ichigo darted forward, narrowly avoiding the clawed foot that came at his head from above – how the hell did he get his leg so high in the first place? – and tried to slice his side. They'd long since passed the point where Ichigo felt guilty for trying to kill his friend. Grimmjow grabbed Zangetsu with two fingers and a thumb, pulled back his right fist, and punched him solidly in the solar-plexus, _hard_.

All the breath left Ichigo's body in a rush, even as his back connected with the wall behind him once more. Quickly followed by the back of his head. That time he saw stars.

Why couldn't he damned well figure this out?

Urahara had been training him for weeks, and he'd learned how to get around the shopkeeper's attacks with relative ease. What was Grimmjow doing that was so different?

_"C'mon! Faster, King. Cut 'im already!"_ The impatient, watery sound of his inner Hollow's voice echoed through his head.

Ichigo growled in annoyance. Why wouldn't the idiot shut up already? He was itrying/i dammit.

_"Quit tryin' an' /i_doi_ it."_

If only it was that simple.

"You are not sufficiently motivating him," came a new voice, and Ichigo barely had time to glance over and notice the new arrival before he was attacked from two sides.

The sight of Ulquiorra sent a sudden thrill of excitement through Ichigo as he thought of the kiss he'd shared with Grimmjow a few hours before. The werepanther had been bluntly honest about it being perfectly fine to do so, but looking at the vampire, and knowing that this was Grimmjow's lover... well it left Ichigo feeling like he'd been poaching on the man's turf behind his back. So part of him kind of accepted that the glowing light gathered on the tip of one delicate finger was probably going to hurt, or even kill him.

The rest of him panicked at the hurtling attack which was potentially strong enough to decimate the entire complex. Ichigo reacted with the same instinctual surge he'd experienced when Gin had done similar. Only that had been before he'd conquered his inner Hollow, or even gained the ability to talk to his sword.

Uncontrolled power smacked into the intense shot of concentrated reiatsu, and this time Ichigo was aware enough to actually _see_ as green light clashed with his own multi-coloured energy. Time froze for a nano-second, and then rushed forward like the blast of the ensuing explosion.

The floor vibrated ominously under his feet as if they were experiencing an earthquake.

If not for the fact he'd already been against the wall, Ichigo was sure he'd have been knocked through it. As it was the lack of momentum left him merely breathless as the dust cleared. There was a ringing in his ears, and the taste of blood in his mouth. Ichigo thought he might have bitten his tongue. Distantly he caught the sounds of cursing, or maybe he was only imagining it, but dazed as he was, Ichigo still blinked the tears from his eyes in order to find Ulquiorra.

The vampire hadn't moved. Even after the force of that strike there wasn't a hair out of place, or a mark on his body that Ichigo could see. Nothing to say he'd just been at the epicentre of an unnatural disaster. The intense green eyes stared back at Ichigo with an unreadable expression, but none of the malice Ichigo felt he deserved, however irrational the thought might be.

"Were you _trying_ to kill us?" Grimmjow growled, instantly appearing between them. The long sweep of blue hair trailing down his back like a mane was practically bristling with agitation as it ghosted over his bone armour. The swaying also played a game of Hide and Go Seek with the panther's ass, which was mildly distracting now that Ichigo wasn't trying to protect himself.

"He will not improve without incentive," Ulquiorra replied flatly, green eyes shifting to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow seemed about to strike out, or at least argue further, but then suddenly deflated with a laugh. There was no hesitation in his movements as he ducked in close to the vampire, his voice dropping into a husky purr, "You haven't fed enough," he sniffed the air, and then added, "A rabbit or two isn't going to... satisfy you."

Watching left Ichigo feeling like he was intruding on a private moment regardless of whether the other two seemed to think so. They were the only ones in the room, and Ichigo had to wonder what might be happening even now if he hadn't happened to be there.

"I made do with what was available. Szayel's creature was gibbering about the Chosen One, and insisted I arrived before the building was levelled," Ulquiorra stepped around Grimmjow as though dismissing him, and once more set his gaze on Ichigo. "I was informed you had Awakened, yet you show little sign of having mastered your Zanpakuto."

"It's not like anyone's showing me how to do this!" Ichigo grumbled, unsurprised that he had almost as much growl in his voice as Grimmjow. It was starting to become normal to hear it, and he wondered if he sounded as much of an animal as he thought he did. Would he scare his friends when he returned home? He hoped not.

"There is little to show, Kurosaki Ichigo," Ulquiorra intoned as though speaking to a slow learner. "You gain power with the ability to communicate with your sword, and in so doing, your sword can instruct you in it's use. Are you not listening to it's guidance?"

"I haven't heard anything from Zangetsu since I Awakened. My stupid Hollow is shouting too loudly," Ichigo told him, wondering if it was normal for the Hollow-side to be that demanding of attention, and then thinking that maybe it wasn't when Ulquiorra raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

_"I told ya what ta do. S'not my fault yer stubborn,"_ the Hollow in question piped up petulantly.

"Hollow?" Ulquiorra asked.

Which was when Grimmjow rejoined the conversation. The werepanther had been glowering behind Ulquiorra's back, affronted by the way in which the vampire had ignored him in favour of Ichigo, but at the mention of another Hollow, he stepped forward, his chin coming to rest on Ulquiorra's head as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Blue eyes peered over at Ichigo searchingly.

"What'cha mean?"

Ichigo blinked. They both seemed comfortable like that. Relaxed. Though how Ichigo could tell anything about Ulquiorra's emotions when the guy's expression never changed he wasn't so sure.

"Isn't that normal?" Ichigo shuffled his feet, unnerved by the twin stares. One blue, one green, as though they were his dreams come to life. The thought brought a flush to his cheeks as he looked away.

"I thought you bested your Hollow?" Grimmjow murmured, obviously confused.

"I did!" Ichigo growled in frustration. "I won the fight, he acknowledged that I was 'King' – that's how he described me – and now he won't shut up. Zangetsu couldn't get a word in edgeways if he tried."

"I have never heard of this. Perhaps this is why the Espada were unable to attain the strength Lord Aizen intended," Ulquiorra's voice was softer now, contemplative. Apparently he wasn't at all bothered about cuddling in public. Not that he was returning the gesture so much as not removing himself from Grimmjow's clutches.

"Or maybe it's got less ta do with being the Chosen One, and more to do with Szayel's freaky shit," Grimmjow pointed out with a suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

Ulquiorra frowned slightly and Ichigo jumped in with the information, "Szayel gave me an injection to speed up my Awakening. It seemed less dangerous than waiting for physical abuse to set off the chain-reaction."

"I see."

_"King, I've always bin 'ere," _his Hollow insisted.

"So why can't I hear the old man?" Ichigo asked aloud, exasperated. The other two looked at him like he'd suddenly gone crazy. A blush heating his cheeks once more, he quickly waved his hand and tapped the side of his head. He hoped they'd realise he was talking to his inner Hollow.

_"I have been here the entire time, Ichigo," _Zangetsu replied in a reproving tone. There was a sense of patience and long suffering mingled into the sound that left Ichigo feeling like he should apologise.

"But I haven't heard anything!"

_"That is because you have not been listening,"_ was the tart response.

Ichigo's shoulders rounded in defeat. "I could hear the annoying idiot just fine," he grumbled.

_"Oi! Don't call me names, King Carrot-top," _the Hollow sniped angrily.

_"It is likely you heard him because he was a good target to direct your ire at,"_ Zangetsu offered, as though realising that Ichigo had selectively ignored him in favour of picking on his Hollow-side was acceptable.

Did all Reaper swords behave like this, or was there something about Ichigo that made his special?

"I take it you can hear him, now?" Grimmjow interrupted the internal conversation. At Ichigo's nod, Grimmjow grinned. "Good."

Ulquiorra raised a hand and stilled Grimmjow before he could move on for the attack. "There is someone who would like to meet you, Ichigo" he told them, then slipped free of Grimmjow's arms before heading to the door. "She will want to help you in your training."

Grimmjow, when Ichigo looked at him for an explanation, shrugged.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo.

**Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.**

Summary: Ulquiorra introduces the newest Espada to arrive, and Ichigo has his first full moon as a Hollow.

A/N: I'm going to be away next week, so there will be no update. I will try to get it out the week after, but it depends on how broken I am and whether I get the time to write. We're in the Summer holidays, and that means the kids are off school, and my partner and I will be running around like blue-arsed flies most of the time.

On another note; sorry this is two days late, but the muses refused to do as I asked the first time, and this is the result of having rewritten the entirety (as I absolutely hated the last version).

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Tier Harribel was an intimidating woman. Tall, and silent, with piercing green eyes that stared at Ichigo through a fall of blonde hair. Her skimpy outfit rivalled Nelliel's in that they both seemed to be wearing as little as possible. What was it with female Hollows (and Grimmjow) and the lack of clothing? It freaked Ichigo out, but at least this one wasn't trying to smother him in her ample bosom.

The fact they'd been introduced ten minutes ago and Harribel had yet to say a single word didn't help Ichigo's comfort levels. Szayel was silently giving Ichigo a golden-eyed stare that made him think of his inner Hollow, and Nelliel had reverted into a child (for some as yet unexplained reason) who'd decided that Ichigo was her favourite climbing frame. The giant snot-bubble that kept threatening to drip onto his sleeve was only making matters worse.

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra stood by, merely watching calmly. Both of them looking as human as they ever got.

Then that thin-lipped mouth opened at last; "I expected Aizen's Chosen to be more inspiring of faith."

What was he supposed to say to that? Ichigo frowned down at Nel as he pondered those words. He'd never felt that he was anything special, but that wasn't the point, was it?

"I just want to protect those I care about," Ichigo told Harribel after a moment of awkward silence. "I won't let anyone suffer needlessly if I can help them."

_I won't let anyone else die._

The unspoken vow reverberated around the inside of his skull.

_"S'all right King, we'll kick their asses!" _His inner Hollow piped up eagerly.

"I have been informed that your training was sorely neglected by those you called friends," Harribel stood still and proud, only Ulquiorra looking less animated than this woman. Was she a vampire too? Ichigo couldn't help but wonder.

"He'll be useless in a fight," Grimmjow grumbled. Only to carry on over the protests Ichigo tried to make. "They didn't even teach him how to use kido, which might have given him an edge. As it is his swordsmanship is pretty good, but his footwork is human-slow, his stealth is zero, and the only time you can tell he's got the ability to back up that power signature of his is when you try to blast the shit outta him. That's when he overreacts."

"His reaction to my cero was an impressive display of strength, but showed little in the way of skill," Ulquiorra agreed stoically.

"So explain it to me!" Ichigo snapped out. "Or better yet, show me. I get things better if you show me how it's done."

_"I c'n show ya," _came the sly suggestion from inside his head.

Ichigo frowned and growled with irritation.

_"It is only natural that your Hollow and Zanpakuto understand their own abilities. I represent the power you have gained through being a Reaper, just as the Hollow is everything you now have access to through your Awakening," _Zangetsu added as though he were trying to mitigate between the three of them.

"~Maybe it has yet to be made obvious how few of those human weaknesses still apply?" Harribel was saying, her gaze locked with Ulquiorra's. Szayel was nodding along, a sheaf of paper in his hands that he was reading through as he listened. Grimmjow was unusually quiet, his expressive blue eyes carefully watching Ichigo as though he was aware that there was another conversation going on that no one else was privy to.

Nel had fallen asleep in his arms, her breathing thick and wet-sounding. Ichigo was fairly sure that had something to do with the strange lisp she acquired with her child-like form.

Ichigo glanced around and realised that nothing was going to be decided any time soon. No one was listening to him, he wasn't even really included in this conversation. He met Grimmjow's steady look, turned, and walked away.

Perhaps talking to his two lodgers would be more effective than gaining these Hollows' help.

Grimmjow slunk after Ichigo, his reiatsu an increasingly familiar comfort.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Following the advice of the voices in his head – and how freaking crazy did _that_ sound? – Ichigo retraced his steps to the room he'd shared with Grimmjow. Nel was still snoring softly as he laid her on the couch, pulled the top blanket off the bed, and tucked it around her.

Then he turned to face the werepanther behind him.

"How long do I have until the moon rises?" Best to get that sort of thing out of the way as soon as possible. He'd have had to be stupid not to realise it was night already if the vampire was here. Like last night, however, he was hoping he had a little time to commune with his inner selves before he needed to return to Karakura Town.

"Not long," Grimmjow stepped closer with caution, as though uncertain as to his welcome, but it didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around Ichigo as he'd done before to the vampire. "You should eat before that, or you might do something you'll regret. Instinct can be a merciless bitch."

There was something about the way he said that which had all the hair on the back of Ichigo's neck rising. The sensation was unpleasant. So much for some quiet time with just himself and the peanut gallery.

Ichigo closed his eyes, and leaned his head against a broad shoulder. Strange how comfortable it was to be so close to another like this. The frustrated side of his mind wanted to listen to his inner Hollow and jump Grimmjow, using the possible distraction to keep his mind off what was coming, but he was far more sensible than that.

And there was a vampire lover to consider, no matter how relaxed about that Grimmjow himself was.

"I think I need something a little more substantial than freeze-dried noodles," Ichigo finally murmured as he straightened.

"Heh, s'one of the things about Szayel I actually like," Grimmjow dropped that cryptic comment, and grinned manically before tugging Ichigo after him.

The entire facility was huge, and twisted unexpectedly in all directions. Ichigo hoped that at least his Hollow, or Zanpakuto were paying attention as he knew _he_ was completely lost already. This place was like a labyrinth, as though Szayel's paranoia demanded he make the layout as complicated as possible in an attempt to hinder enemies and allies alike. All the walls were painted the same colour, with doors spaced out almost evenly between rooms.

"Szayel doesn't like the disruption hunger tends ta lead to during this time of the lunar month," Grimmjow smirked in response to Ichigo's raised eyebrow. "He built this cafeteria to cater to Hollow needs so's none of us even need to go topside if we don't wanna."

Ichigo glanced around the huge room they'd entered as Grimmjow spoke. There were rows of picnic style tables, in uniform grey metal, with a counter at the side where a selection of food was laid out. Grimmjow quickly led him to the meat dishes, snagging a couple of plates as he went.

"Get whatever you want, but keep it high in protein. It'll help later," Grimmjow warned as he shoved a plate at Ichigo.

While Ichigo examined the variety of meat-heavy servings on offer, Grimmjow went straight for the rich-gravy laden chunks of what looked like beef. Nothing else, just the beef, as though he were worried the vegetables might attack him if he dared add some to his plate.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, and finally settled on the curry. At least that would give him the protein Grimmjow insisted he needed, but also provide the energy he desperately craved in the form of missing vitamins and minerals. Ramen was not the most healthy of snack foods, and living with a doctor had instilled a certain level of diligence in personal healthcare his own training had only cemented.

They sat together at a table, neither one feeling the need to continue talking as they quickly consumed their meal. Once finished Ichigo was suddenly struck by a sense of restlessness. As though he needed to be somewhere else, and it didn't take a genius to figure out his body was aware of the moon rising outside, this was too close to the feeling he'd had last night once it had become apparent he wasn't going to Turn.

Shit. What the hell was he going to tell everyone? It wasn't like Awakening had been the same as Turning – he was still himself – but would his friends and family be able to accept what he'd done for them?

Ichigo hung his head for a moment, dreading what was to come, but the resolve he'd found before rushed back to cocoon him. It didn't matter. He had a job to do, a promise to keep. No one had to accept his sacrifices, he just wanted them to live.

A touch to his shoulder brought Ichigo's head up, eyes locking with concerned blue. Grimmjow searched his gaze, looking for something he seemed to find after a moment.

"C'mon. Let's go," Grimmjow stood with a final squeeze to his shoulder.

"Go? Where?"

"Ch, s'not like I'm a moron, kid. You're gonna be all spaced out and stupid if ya don't go and kick a little ass. We can see if there's any good hunting around town."

Ichigo frowned. Was he really that obvious? Maybe, but Ichigo also thought that Grimmjow was more perceptive than most. Ichigo rose with a sigh. Looked like he wasn't going home alone. Now wasn't that going to be interesting?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Ichigoooooo!"

A foot to his old man's gut took care of Isshin's attempt at male bonding. Isshin slammed to the kitchen floor under Ichigo's shoe, arms flailing, and one leg twitching. The brief glimpse of a more serious side to the elder Kurosaki's behaviour had given Ichigo the false impression that things were improving.

Apparently his father was a moron no matter how dire the circumstances.

"I just saw Gin heading out of town, so I know you have some idea of what's going on," Ichigo told the bawling man on the floor.

That sobered him fast enough to give away that it was all an act. Intelligent eyes swivelled to take in the man who'd stepped through the door behind Ichigo, alert, and obviously aware of what Grimmjow was, "What business do you have with my son, Hollow?"

"Shuddup, Goat-face," Ichigo grumbled. It was typical that his dad would find _now_ to be the perfect opportunity to play the role of protective father. "He's a friend, and he's going to help guard Karakura Town tonight. That's all you need to know right now."

Grimmjow glanced down at Isshin, not surprised after having been warned about him on the way over, then seemed to decide he wasn't worth his attention. That shaggy head of blue hair rose again to look around the kitchen with feline curiosity. Ichigo grinned as Grimmjow started exploring, his nostrils flaring as he scented the room. It was strangely amusing to have the Espada acting like a house cat in a new territory.

"I just wanted to let you know I'm all right, and I'll be doing what I can on the streets. Are Karin and Yuzu okay? Did Urahara come back yet?" Ichigo had noticed the shopkeeper wasn't here, but that didn't really mean much. He could have been and gone already.

Kurosaki Isshin rose to his feet, his eyes showing an unusual amount of worry as he shook his head, "The girls are fine. They phoned a little while ago," there was the implied dig that Ichigo had done no such thing, himself. Ichigo simply glared at him. Had his idiot father thought he could just borrow a Hollow's phone to ring home, and say what; he was going to try something stupid, and dangerous all in the hopes of becoming stronger?

"But no sign of Urahara?"

Isshin shook his head in the negative. What the hell was Urahara up to? What kind of secret weapon could he possibly have? The mind boggled.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The moon was just rising as Ichigo and Grimmjow exited the town gates. Karakura Town wasn't as asleep as she looked, not tonight. The moon was huge and perfectly round in the starry sky, it's silver light illuminating the surrounding area so brightly that Ichigo could see every blade of grass with his newly opened Hollow eyes.

Grimmjow paused on the edge of the tree line, his head cocking to the side as his reiatsu rose slowly, and then burst out in a rush of skin-tingling power. Ichigo shivered at the warm, pleasant wash of energy pouring over him, eyes glued to Grimmjow's transformation as he slid into his full resurrección. No matter how many time he saw it, Ichigo didn't think it would ever cease to amaze him. Grimmjow stood tall and proud on his cat-like feet, his body encased in form-fitting bone armour.

"Can we do that?" Ichigo asked while Grimmjow shook out his long hair. The bluer-than-blue eyes scanned the area, all too aware that Ichigo wasn't talking to him.

_"Ya lettin' me out ta play, King?" _The Hollow asked hopefully.

"I'm not letting you wreck the place," Ichigo growled.

There was a huff, and a mental image of the Hollow folding his arms with a scowl, but Ichigo refused to relent. He'd seen the state of Szayel's lab, and the Hollows themselves after his Awakening.

_"Fine, we work together this time,"_ was the eventual compromise. Then a flash of sensory input that was more sensation and knowledge than words or pictures cascaded through his mind.

Ichigo drew his reiatsu tightly to him, letting the power build, just as Grimmjow had before. Then, with a little concentration and a lot of silent guidance from his Hollow-self, he released it, and with it his human form.

It was the strangest feeling. When he'd Awakened he'd been wrapped up in too much pain, deep in his own mind, to notice, but releasing his own version of a resurrección didn't exactly hurt. It wasn't even that uncomfortable. His bones liquefied and reset, muscles stretching from one shape to another, and his scalp itched as his hair grew out. Ichigo shifted balance, unsure why his feet felt off-kilter until he glanced down – past where bone armour of his own as forming over his skin – to see the odd clawed shape they'd taken on. Where his clothes had gone was a mystery, even the shoes he'd been wearing had vanished with the change. There were rings of bright orange fur around his ankles, and wrists, even his fingers had elongated to form deadly looking claws to match the ones on the ends of his toes.

"That's new," Grimmjow said in a low, husky tone.

Ichigo snapped his head up, needing to see the look that went with that sinfully suggestive tone. The werepanther was poised as though ready to fight or run at a moments hesitation, but the heat in his eyes was all focused appreciatively on Ichigo's new form. Ichigo fought the urge to squirm.

"I thought I was supposed to be a lizard?" He asked, noticing for the first time that his voice had changed to echo his inner Hollow's. Watery and distorted, though that might have been because of the mask that had settled over his face. Ichigo raised a hand to feel the thing, only to realise it was like a helmet with horns and everything. He tried to get a look as his backside, wondering if he had a tail, too?

"You are a lizard," Grimmjow frowned at him.

"But I'm furry!" Ichigo held out an arm and pointed at the fringe of bright orange fluff which was hard to miss even at night.

The werepanther barely glanced at it, "So?"

Frustrated, Ichigo stomped off into the forest. What was he supposed to think? Lizards were reptiles, weren't they? What was wrong with Hollows that their version came with mammalian fur? Was it because of his human ancestry, or was this normal? And why didn't he have a tail?

_"You are exactly as you should be, Ichigo, do not doubt yourself,"_ Zangetsu told him smoothly.

"I'm not doubting myself, I'm wondering if I'm the only sane person left," Ichigo muttered aloud.

"Let's hunt, Ichi," Grimmjow interrupted, ignoring, or oblivious to the fact Ichigo was annoyed with him. "It'll make ya feel better."

Ichigo snorted. But dutifully turned to follow when Grimmjow deviated from the path, and headed off at a quick jog after something Ichigo couldn't quite identify. There was a scent in the air he didn't know, and an aura that reeked of blood, hunger and pain. The closer they got – and Ichigo was surprised at how swiftly he could move in the segmented armour with the ridiculous horns protruding from his skull – the more excited Ichigo found himself becoming.

_"It's a wolf, Ichi. Get it, get it, GET IT!"_

Unable to deny his Hollow with the thrill of the chase zinging along his veins, Ichigo sprinted the last few metres. Half in shadow under the branches of a large tree was a grisly scene that stopped him for all of five seconds. The werewolf raised it's shaggy head from the unrecognisable mess that Ichigo somehow knew had once been human, and sniffed the air while licking the blood from it's muzzle. No sense of fear evident, not even with Ichigo's blazing yellow gaze squarely focused on it. Either it was stupid, or Ichigo's ability to keep his aura tightly tucked into his body had grown since last night. In either case it was only too easy to sink his claws into the furred pelt of the Turned creature. There was no thought of summoning Zangetsu, no need with how easily they took the werewolf down. Both of them were growling and snarling by then, but not for long as Ichigo snaked his hands around a thick throat and broke it's neck with a sickening _snap_.

Grimmjow's near-silent footsteps drew Ichigo's attention as the werepanther drew closer, tail swished lazily behind him, and manic grin split his face as he flashed sharp, pointed teeth. They eyed each other for a moment, and then Grimmjow merely sniffed the air, ignored the two corpses, and set off again.

The next two hours were a mad dash through the forest surrounding Karakura Town, with pauses involving blood, screaming, and the occasional human victim being rescued – not always from werewolves – though there was an inordinate number of them against anything else. Sometimes they split up as one or the other brought a survivor to the Kurosaki Clinic, while the remaining one patrolled, but they always found each other when they'd finished, and the hunt was on once more. They even spotted Gin at one point, unrecognisable if not for his reiatsu, but he'd been sniggering to himself as he practically bounced after what looked like a grotesque child – Grimmjow offhandedly told him it was a goblin – so they left him to it.

Midnight had come and gone when flapping wings made both men pause. Ulquiorra appeared in his full resurrección, green eyes having bled out so that his irises burned gold just like Ichigo's, but in a sea of green instead of black. The vampire landed on the werewolf they'd been toying with, expression showing no reaction to the scent of blood, or the choked scream that gurgled into silence under his clawed feet. Instead he took his time examining Ichigo's form as Grimmjow stretched, and let out a small sound of contentment which didn't _quite_ become a purr.

"He's gorgeous, ain't he?" Grimmjow cooed in Ulquiorra's direction.

"I'm right here, asshole," Ichigo grumbled with a frown.

"You are quite remarkable to look at, Ichigo," Ulquiorra murmured, one hand rising to hold Grimmjow away from him. The werepanther stopped trying to get closer, and simply turned his head to smirk at Ichigo.

"He hasn't eaten properly, and he's all cranky," Grimmjow pointed out helpfully.

Vampires didn't eat, they drank blood, Ichigo knew that much, but he was suddenly nervous that they were talking about the vampire's diet while staring so intently at _him_. Wasn't he a member of their clan? Didn't that mean they shouldn't be looking at him like he was about to become the main entrée.

"I'm usually breakfast, but I was with you tonight when he rose," Grimmjow stepped around his lover, circling so that they faced each other in a triangle. "Ulqui's wanted a taste of you since the beginning."

"I am quite capable of speaking for myself, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra intoned monotonously, yet Ichigo thought he could detect mild irritation in there. "I will not sup from you unless you invite me. Do not fear me."

"Can I get this helmet thingy off?" Ichigo asked his inner Hollow, watching as Ulquiorra gave Grimmjow a puzzled look.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "He's talking to himself again. Well, to his Zanpakuto and Hollow."

Ulquiorra's confusion vanished, "I see."

Ichigo ignored them.

_"Hold on. Lemme think," _his Hollow sounded happier than he'd ever been. Perhaps a night of tearing the limbs off monsters was all it took to make the guy chill out. _Got it. Tha' should do it, King, jus' pull it off."_

Ichigo reached up with both hands and gingerly removed his helmet as a flare of reiatsu licked out and around him like a tiny flame. The horns and mask unit remained whole long enough for him to get a good look at it, and to notice the twin stripes that streaked the face before it crumbled away to nothing.

"I told you already, Ulquiorra; I don't fear you," Ichigo stated firmly. His voice had returned to normal, which meant he'd been right. Without the helmet he could also feel the breeze on his face, and through his hair. It was wonderfully refreshing after so long.

"Does that mean ya wanna find out why I bare my throat to 'im?" Grimmjow asked eagerly.

"Why do I get the feeling this is going to be embarrassing?" Ichigo grumbled.

The vampire sighed, "I fail to see what is so fascinating about my feeding habits."

"Be quiet, you," Grimmjow rumbled, a growl threading lightly into the words. Ulquiorra merely shook his head in exasperation. "What? You do the biting and sucking, we get to feel it. 'Course we're gonna be all nosy about it."

"Does it hurt?" Ichigo had to force himself to stay still, suddenly unsure of whether he should, or not when they both whipped around with identical expressions of shock and hunger. The inner Hollow didn't make a peep, but Ichigo could feel a type of gleeful expectation winding through his body in response to the creature's growing anticipation. It was almost enough to make him call an end to this experiment before they'd even started.

"Not really, and not at all if yer distracted enough," Grimmjow was suddenly pressed against Ichigo's side, breath fanning over his bare neck. Ichigo shivered.

"Why are _you_ so pleased with me offering to feed him?" Ichigo wondered aloud while his gaze met Ulquiorra's.

"'Cause it's only ever done one thing to _me_," Grimmjow responded huskily. Claws pressed into the bone armour covering his chest and slowly began scraping downward, the sensation ghosting over his skin underneath. It made Ichigo's breath catch to feel it.

Ulquiorra's lips twitched, and for the first time Ichigo saw the vampire's emotions through the cracks of his expressionless mask. Though hidden behind layers of control, Ulquiorra was amused, excited, and slightly uncertain of himself, or his welcome. Ichigo made up his mind then and there. No more wavering. The blood thundered in his ears as he released his resurrección.

"Show me."


End file.
